


I Pledged Allegiance

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Political AU, if you like trump you won't like this, sharon carter appreciation month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 78,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: Steve Rogers is the President of the United States. With his wife, Sharon Carter, by his side, he sets about improving lives. Being President comes with plenty of problems, but one he never anticipated is his wife's Secret Service agent, Bucky Barnes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie, this has been a weird year. I was on track to finish this months ago only to fall prey to a bit of a depressive episode that lasted, like, eight months. Yay! Lo and behold, I was on antidepressants and getting back to work on this fic when November happened. Suddenly, I had a fic where the bad guys weren't as scary as the guy currently in office. I actually scrapped the whole thing.
> 
> But at the end of the day, I couldn't forget it. Fuck it. We need a President like Steve Rogers. We need a First Lady like Sharon Carter. We need hope.
> 
> So here's the fic. I'll be posting daily until it's done. I hope it gives a bit of escapism, entertainment, and hope.

A smattering of polite applause rippled through the auditorium, with a larger shout of support from far in the back despite pleas for silence during the debate; Bucky’s eyes roved over the crowd from his position beside the blue curtain, pristine right down to its folds. Instead of potential threats, he saw a panoply of stony faces. Most of Brandt’s supporters weren’t inclined to applaud Brandt’s lackluster performance, whether through boredom or disappointment. Even in the middle of the debate, Brandt knew it, too. He clutched the podium as if hanging on for dear life, and the lights glinted off a drop of sweat that rolled down his temple.

“He just handed Rogers the nomination,” Senator Pierce murmured quietly as talk from other politicians and party representatives started up around them again. Much of it, Bucky noticed, was about how to counter Governor Rogers from here on out. He could hear Stark’s name being bandied about. One of the richest men in America, they would need Stark’s money and support if they wanted to win the election.

Bucky would have said that Rogers hadn’t been handed anything, that he had taken it, but secret service agents weren’t supposed to offer their opinions. Bucky had to admire Rogers’ grasp on issues, though, and the passion with which he spoke, his conviction. He’d countered Brandt’s insults and isolationist rhetoric with facts, emotional story, idealism, and a touch of sarcasm. The son of immigrants, Rogers had vowed to return civil liberties to the country and to make them a country without fear once again.

Bucky watched as the mediator, an anchor for a conservative network, declared the debate over and addressed the camera. Rogers’ shoulders relaxed as his wife joined him. Sharon Carter. She was still a senator for Virginia, though everyone expected her to resign if Rogers won the presidency. That seemed more of a “when” scenario now, Bucky thought to himself. He eyed her blue dress as she turned to smile exuberantly at the audience; the dress was fashionable, the cut daring without being risque. It made her look young, vibrant. She even looked comfortable on stage for once. He’d never known her to appear comfortable when she knew cameras were around. In contrast, Brandt’s wife, Meredith, walked awkwardly onto the stage, looking like an old woman in her more traditional red dress, something obviously fashioned by a designer and meant for a younger woman. 

Rogers turned toward the audience, too, waving at the crowd until Brandt’s wife stepped forward, and then the blonde couple turned to embrace her as one. Bucky wasn’t sure they even liked Meredith Brandt, but the two could afford to be beneficent. Rogers and Carter seemed utterly thrilled, and why shouldn’t they? Rogers had won the debate, hands down.

Brandt still hadn’t moved from the podium. He stood there, frozen, staring out at the crowd and swallowing. Shame. Presidential candidates had recovered from lies and failed memories before - hell, Brandt’s successor had even broken the law with abandon - but Bucky had never seen a political career recover from overactive sweat glands and stammering when thrown off. He’d be a punchline from here on out, and he and Meredith could only hope to fade into obscurity.

Next to the Brandts, Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers looked like they could defeat obscurity with their smiles alone. The latest political power couple, they were one step closer to achieving their goal. If they’d wanted to, they could have held their offices for as long as they liked. As it was, Governor Rogers had set his eye on the presidency.

Pierce was still staring at him. “Would you vote for Brandt after that?”

“I’m not here to have an opinion, sir.” He did another sweep over the crowd. He nodded toward the people with their red hats and red shirts filing out early. “But their opinion matters more than mine anyway.”

Pierce turned to survey the people in the seats, and Bucky could tell from his frown that he saw what Bucky did - people either cheering for Rogers or trying to slink away unnoticed.

Bucky quietly agreed with the people who had already left; the election was essentially over. Many of Rogers’ quotes had been inspiring, and Bucky wondered who Rogers had hired to write them. Pierce was probably thinking of stealing the writer away already.

On the stage, Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter gave the audience another wave. Sharon tucked Meredith’s arm in hers, and Rogers looked around for Brandt. Seeing him at the podium still, he jogged over and took Brandt’s hand, leading him toward the center of the stage with a large smile. Bucky couldn’t hear what Rogers was saying, but it looked like he was encouraging the other man.

As Rogers and Brandt moved closer, Sharon moved to Meredith’s other side, letting Meredith stand beside Brandt. Rogers led the other three in waving again to the audience.

Pierce cursed under his breath. Rogers had just made himself look like a kind-hearted hero, helping out his political opponent when he had no reason to. It was a good deed that wouldn’t go unnoticed, and both Pierce and Bucky knew that it was already being reported by the national news.

At least Bucky wouldn’t have to guard Brandt much longer, he mused. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get assigned to Rogers’ detail after he was elected president. Every secret service agents’ dream was to guard the president, after all.

* * *

Sharon laughed at one of the reporter’s questions. “Of course I support his bid to run for President! I live in DC. I want to see my husband for more than just weekends sometimes, you know.” She laughed again and then grabbed Steve’s arm, leading him off the platform. After a moment, Steve felt Sam’s hand on his other arm. Half-blinded from the lights, Steve relied on Sam’s grip to lead him.

“Have you gotten those stars out of your eyes yet?” Sharon teased. The faintly-nervous edge was absent from her voice now that they were no longer besieged by microphones.

“Almost. But it’s hard when I’m standing next to the sun.” He grinned down at her as she groaned and lightly punched his arm. The spots in his eyes had cleared just enough that he could see her nose wrinkle. His adrenaline was still high from the debate; as much as he liked seeing her smile and wrinkle her nose, he wanted a bit of privacy with his wife now more than anything.

“With lines like that, I can’t believe I ever married you.” She nodded to May, her secret service agent, who fell into step silently beside her.

“Because you secretly like it,” he said confidently.

She snorted and pulled his arm over her shoulder. “Sap.”

“Did I really do okay?”

She smiled up at him. No, not just smiled, _beamed_. She was euphoric. They both were. He’d been able to feel her heartbeat in his chest when they’d hugged after the debate; her heart was pumping nearly as quickly as his own. “Steve. You were amazing.”

He looked down at her as they headed out the door. “Really?”

She nodded. “I could praise you properly...” She grinned and kissed his cheek, but then a series of flashes went off as the door opened, and she pulled away. “But I’ll wait until later.”

Steve chuckled and held up an arm in another wave to the people who’d found out they were leaving this way. The Secret Service would hold them back, he knew. “So what do you think?”

“I think it’s time to start cementing plans,” she admitted, waving to the people on her side. “We’ll have to start interviewing people for your cabinet. I think we might actually have a chance at this.” She seemed breathless at the idea, and he couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t believe they had a chance, either. Years ago, they’d been afraid they would see democracy in their country die altogether, and here they were, on the cusp of winning a fair election so they could protect democracy from ever being undermined like that again.

Sam pulled Steve into the limo, and May guided Sharon in behind him. “I’m still not sure I like Erskine’s idea.”

“He’s just telling you the way things have been done before. It’s not like he’s going to hold you to them.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye and covered her hand with his. “He won’t, will he.”

She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. “No, he won’t. And we need to get home. I’ve got meetings starting at nine tomorrow, and I’ve got to kick some political ass if I’m going to keep up with you.”

He bit his lip. “Does that mean an early bedtime?”

She held his hand to her lips. “Yep. Not necessarily an early sleep time, though...”

* * *

“Daisy?” Sharon held a buttered roll in one hand, her other thumbing through reports. Except for small spaces carved out for people’s dishes, the table in their hotel suite was covered with reports and papers. “We need those numbers from the EPA in here. And I want to get some people on the phone who worked there before - I don’t think these are all the files they managed to save.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Daisy said quickly, spinning to avoid Erskine and ducking under Mack’s arm to drop a heavy folder on the breakfast table. “They came in about three this morning. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Sharon grinned. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Normally, she wouldn’t have minded being woken up, since she was technically on call all the time, but she and Steve had both had energy to burn, and they’d burned it late into the night. Not that she was complaining. She liked when Steve had energy to burn.

Speak of the devil, she thought wryly as Steve slid into the kitchen and kissed the top of her head. She preened a little; her good mood didn’t dissipate when he took a hearty bite of her roll.

He moved to the kitchen island and grabbed enough food that his plate nearly overflowed. He caught a strip of bacon before it fell off and shoved it into his mouth. “What’s on the docket today?” he asked aloud.

“Interviews,” Abraham Erskine said, and Sharon grinned at her file. One of the things she enjoyed most about having their staff using the hotel suite as a campaign headquarters was that if anyone asked a question, someone was bound to answer. Most of their staff had worked together since her and Steve’s initial campaigns; they were used to the grind, even if the scale was much larger this time around. “You need to start considering whom you’ll have in your cabinet.”

Steve ducked his head in that adorably awkward way he had whenever he got praise, even praise so roundabout as Abe’s, and Sharon grinned. There was a reason so many people had been drawn to him when they’d gone to college together.

“Face it, slugger. You’re going to have a lot of good days.”

“Until we win.” He leaned against her chair to read the EPA report over her shoulder. “Then nothing I do will be right. There’s a reason they say it’s the loneliest job.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and nudged him in the gut. “Idiot. You know that’s why I’m moving in with you, right?” She wrinkled her nose at him. She’d hated her habit of wrinkling her nose when she was young, but Steve had told her once that it was one of the first things that had made him think she was cute. They’d only been in their late teens at the time, but he still seemed to like it. She’d learned to embrace the habit. “That and so I can finally see all that china I’ve been hearing about.” And because it would cost too much money for her to live apart from him. Not that she wanted to.

“Should have known you were only after me for my big house,” he teased. He walked around her to pry the newspaper from beneath one of her binders.

She thought of the one-room efficiency they’d splurged on their junior year, the second-hand bed tucked in the corner on the floor and how the landlord never turned on the heat until November and they’d used the stove as a heater. There were rough days at work when she longed that they could go back to those days.

She lifted her glass to him in a toast. “Knew it would pay off one day.”

He made a face at her and stole another of her rolls.

* * *

Secret Service agents had opinions, even if they weren’t allowed to freely express them. It was one of the aspects of his job that frustrated Bucky the most.

Of course, there were some people that he trusted, to some extent. He’d been assigned to Representative Jones’ detail on a trip to China and the two had developed an easy relationship at the Capitol; Gabe even sent him a Christmas card last year. When Gabe asked his opinion, Bucky didn’t feel like it would come back to bite him in the ass if he answered.

But Richard Brandt was no Gabe Jones. Brandt had been a rising star who was falling fast, and he would soon be doing anything to stay in his party’s good graces. Bucky was too small a fish to think he’d be saved when Brandt burned his own house down.

So when Brandt, sitting despondently at his desk while Pierce argued with delegates in the next room, asked Bucky, “There’s a chance I can come back from this, right?” Bucky only answered, “It’s not my place to say, sir.”

* * *

Brandt managed to recover, but it wasn’t enough to win the election. It wasn’t even close, despite anomalies in some counties. Bucky was transferred back to the Capitol. In January, he was assigned to help at the Inauguration, too. Most of it served only to make him wish the inauguration ceremonies were shorter; it seemed every celebrity had wanted to perform at the concerts and other festivities. The weather was biting cold and overcast, as January all too often was in DC. President Rogers and First Lady Carter led the parade to the West Front, and he shifted his weight a little as he observed the crowd. He could only imagine how the President and First Lady were faring; he hadn’t seen either one of them stop smiling on their way up the street as they waved to the crowd, and neither of them wore gloves or caps. They must be freezing.

There was no sign of trouble while President Rogers swore the oath on his family’s bible.

The Inaugural Ball was equally uneventful, and Bucky watched as President Rogers and First Lady Carter danced around the room, smiling at each other all the while. They stopped only to greet people, then returned to smiling at each other. Sometimes they took a break, covering each other when they wanted to sneak a bite of food, one blocking the other from well-wishers and cameras while the other ate.

He forced himself not to watch them, to check for threats in the vicinity instead.

And yet, he couldn’t resist shielding them from onlookers a couple times when he saw they’d grabbed some small piece of food and were trying to eat without a camera catching them mid-bite.

Through it all, part of him wished they wouldn’t smile so much.

* * *

Coulson waved to the chair in front of his desk. “Barnes. Have a seat.”

Bucky dropped into the chair and watched Coulson carefully. He tried to seem more relaxed than he was, but he doubted he succeeded; Coulson hadn’t been made Director of the Secret Service for his looks. He was observant, shrewd, and played things close to his chest. They were all qualities Bucky couldn’t help but admire, particularly in a boss, but they didn’t help set him at ease.

Coulson skimmed over some papers before closing the folder and focusing on Bucky. “You’ve been recommended for a promotion. Your past protectees have spoken highly of you, and there’s an opening.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth tugged downward. “Thank you.”

Coulson’s head tilted slightly to the side. When he’d first started working for the Service, Bucky had been struck by how Coulson’s smallest moves often revealed the most. As he’d studied the man more, he’d realized that Coulson knew it, too, and sometimes used it to his advantage. “You don’t seem excited.”

“Just wondering what it is, sir. If it’s another trip to Guatemala, I’m going to buy stock in bug spray.”

Coulson’s lips quirked. “No trips to Guatemala scheduled anytime soon.” He handed the folder over the desk. “Report to Melinda May. 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You’re joining the First Lady’s detail, effective immediately."


	2. Chapter 2

Even at six in the morning, the White House was a beehive of activity. Bucky followed another agent, Morse, through the hallways to the East Wing; she gave a rundown of security measures along the way, pointed out agents and workers he would need to know. Bucky grudgingly admitted he was a little impressed; he’d thought Rogers and Carter’s security was lacking on the campaign trail, but they’d only been inconspicuous. He recognized more than a few of them from different events. Morse was well-trained and sharp, and he was tempted to ask her to spar sometime.

She led him through the East Colonnade before she knocked on a door. Opening it, she nodded to the person on the other side. “May, this is James Barnes. Barnes, May. She’s the person you’ll be very, very scared of if you know what’s good for you.”

May smiled thinly and waved a hand to one of the chairs in front of her desk. Like Coulson’s office, hers was devoid of personal touches save for awards and certifications. “Sit.” Once he was situated, she leaned forward. “You’ll be part of the First Lady’s core security detail. When we travel, you’ll be with us more often than not. Coulson tells me you don’t have a life. Is that true?”

Bucky tried not to think of how he tended to spend as much time with Netflix as he did at the gym. “It’s not inaccurate,” he admitted.

Her smirk said she had suspected as much. “The First Lady officially gave up her Senate seat to better fulfill the obligations of the First Lady. I’ve protected her off and on for years, and I can tell you that she’ll hit the ground running and won’t often pause. You’ll be busy.”

He nodded. “Neither she nor the President seem like the sorts to take it easy. Has she selected her causes yet?”

“She hasn’t narrowed it down. She and the President have a lot to do to get the nation where they want it. That’s why I’m setting a core security detail of at least three agents who are flexible, can keep up with her, and can direct other agents if they need to. As of yet, there’s no way of knowing what she’ll want to do next year. We may have to pool our resources. She’s already got some of her cabinet members selected, but she wants to expand the circle today. Do you consider yourself a feminist?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Carter was a woman in politics; of course they’d have to determine if he’d consider her a... what? Presumptuous upstart?

“I haven’t studied women’s issues the way most women probably have,” he said carefully, “but I’ve never understood why women ought to be treated worse than men or have fewer options.”

“Do you think they’re less capable?”

Bucky grinned. “I’m pretty sure Morse could drop me on the mat, Ma’am.”

May’s grin widened; there was a predatory glint in her eyes that suggested Morse wasn’t the only woman who could beat him. “You’ll likely hear a lot of issues. The First Lady may even ask you about them herself. I would suggest not lying to her. Both the First Lady and the President prefer opinions they disagree with to no opinions at all or lies. They especially don’t appreciate lies.”

They had chosen the wrong business, then. He’d been on the Hill long enough to know that everyone here lied. “Understood.”

She got to her feet. “And the First Lady may test you.” Before Bucky could comment on that, she announced, “Now let’s go meet the staff that’s here.”

* * *

“Rodriguez thinks we should drop expanding the healthcare plan until we’re more cemented.”

Sharon ducked under his arms to fix his tie, kissing his chin before disappearing again to touch up her makeup. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and part of him regretted that they didn’t have more time to themselves. Gone were the days of visiting each other on weekends and losing themselves in each other until it was time to part again. “Your mother died because she couldn’t get healthcare. Your health was bad for years, too, until Abe came along. Whatever concerns Rodriguez may have, do they beat someone else’s mother dying because they can’t afford help?”

He grinned at her as she turned back to her makeup. That was one of the things that had first amazed him about her, the way she could take a negative and use it as a way to strengthen her resolve. And his, too. “I guess I could talk to some people like I did when I was governor.”

She nodded. “Exactly. After all, you’re basically just the governor of the United States. It’s not that different.”

Steve thought of the added pressure, the nightly comedy-show critiques he’d never had to deal with as governor, the requests that arrived from people ranging from schoolchildren to prime ministers. He’d been told North Korea was threatening to bomb the US during his first briefing months before he’d even become President. “It’s a little different.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in the mirror. “One step at a time, Rogers.” Her grin widened. “And if you want to lecture me later tonight about how wrong I am, just make sure to be naked.”

He huffed a laugh and handed her the hair dryer as she reached for it. “Only if we wear matching outfits.”

Minutes later, her hair was dry and lightly styled, and he was helping her with the clasp of her necklace when there was a knock at the door. “Mr. President? You’ve got that meeting with the Mexican President in twenty minutes, sir.”

Steve made a face at Sharon. “Be there in a minute, Rumlow.” He shook his head. “I swear, that guy does more to keep me on my toes than Sam does.”

“At least he’s working for you and not against you?”

Steve hastily put on his shoes and tied the laces. “When did you get so optimistic?”

“When you fucked me for the first time.” She winked at him lasciviously as she pulled on her heels.

He grinned and offered her his arm. “Let me at least walk you to the East Wing. Might be the last I see you until dinner.”

* * *

Bucky stood at attention as chatter in his earpiece picked up. The Secret Service had dubbed the President “Captain” after President Rogers had admitted to lying about his age in order to join the military. First Lady Carter, who had been accepted into the CIA like her aunt before deciding she could do more good in the public eye, was called “Thirteen,” after her aunt’s code name. He’d heard she’d wanted to go by “Agent,” but the IRS had said firmly that she would be surrounded by agents for the rest of her life, and they couldn’t have any names that might confuse people in an emergency situation. Supposedly, she’d pointed out that “Captain” could refer to any number of people, too, and Coulson had told her that it was short for “Captain America.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed that one; people on the Hill were known for their gossip, not all of it accurate.

As she stepped into the room, President Rogers right behind her, she didn’t seem that upset about the code name. Actually, she didn’t seem upset at all. She smiled brightly at everyone and got some smiles back in return. “Sorry for being late,” she told them, “but you know how it is. A First Lady does not arrive late, nor she does she arrive early. She arrives precisely when she means to.”

President Rogers rolled his eyes. “Sorry. That was a date movie. If I’d known she’d be quoting it so many years later, I’d have stuck with dinner.”

She grinned at him. “Or taken me to whatever horror movie sequel was out that year. That could have been fun.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can walk safely from here on out, Steve.”

_Steve._ Bucky knew the President’s name was Steve. It wasn’t supposed to make any difference. The name just... sounded different when the First Lady said it.

“You girls got it from here?” Rumlow said into the earpiece.

Both May and Morse flicked their eyes toward him in annoyance. May’s voice was cold over the comm. “We’ve got it.”

The First Lady and the President continued to tease each other, oblivious to the chatter on the line. She moved to pat his butt, caught herself, and set her hand awkwardly on his waist instead. “You should go meet the Mexican President. And remember. No jokes about Mexi- _can’t._ Save it for the Canadian Prime Minister. The _Can’t_ adian Prime Minister.”

Bucky glanced at May out of the corner of his eye. No one had warned him about the First Lady’s terrible jokes. Even after he’d been assigned to the Hill for all those years, he’d never had any idea Senator Carter made puns.

He rolled his eyes and gave her a quick kiss. “See you at dinner.”

The President, Rumlow, and the other Secret Service agents assigned to the President left, and the First Lady zeroed in on Bucky, her gaze sharp. “You’re the agent from the Inauguration. Barnes, right?”

He nodded. “Ma’am.”

“Have a seat, Barnes.”

He tried not to complain about how many people had told him that lately and dropped onto the sofa. She demurely sank into a chair across the low marble table from him. “Steve and I had a bit of a fight over you.”

There it was again, that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach when she said his name. “Ma’am?”

She grinned. “We noticed at the Inaugural Ball that you covered us so we could eat. Figured anybody who did that couldn’t be too bad. And when May demanded that we expand our security detail, you came up.” Her grin widened. “And I got you.”

Bucky’s expression was the opposite of hers. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying so, that’s not a good reason to choose me for your security.”

Her grin quirked into something more secretive. “You were already one of Coulson’s choices for the job. We knew the others on the list even less. Except Mack, of course, but apparently, they cap the number of last names starting with the same letter at two.” She paused. “And I can always ask that you be moved to Steve’s detail if I don’t like you, or removed entirely if I think you won’t do.”

He bit his lip to keep from smirking. “All due respect, ma’am, you don’t get a say. Director Coulson makes that call.”

“Coulson would decide that it isn’t worth fighting me over it.” She turned away. “May? How many fights have Coulson and I gotten into?”

May stood behind the First Lady’s chair, her hands behind her back. Her eyes were steady on Bucky’s face. “Three.”

“And how many of those did I win?”

“Assuming he didn’t mean for you to win all along?”

First Lady Carter made a face before turning back. “Agent Barnes, please ignore Agent May. Consider this your trial week. If things work out, great. If they don’t, fine. I promise I’ll put in a good word for you when I talk to Coulson.” She smiled again and held out her hand. “But I’m sure we’re going to get along fine.”

He shook her hand and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She raised her head and turned away, their hands still clasped, and Bucky glanced at May again. “Daisy? Foster’s first, right?”

A young woman in a chair beside a small table nodded. “Dr. Jane Foster. I’ve been texting her intern. They’re on their way.”

First Lady Carter nodded, broke the handshake, and waved at Bucky. “Now move. We’re going to need that seat.”

* * *

That night, Bucky lay in his bed in his one-room apartment in Takoma Park. His first day had gone well enough, even if he’d been bored more than he’d wanted to admit. The First Lady had chosen some causes to support; he got the feeling she’d already known which ones she’d wanted and had been waiting to make them official, and he didn’t know her well enough to guess why she had invited the other people she’d spoken to.

No, he thought he _could_ guess. Some groups she had invited to introduce them to legislators who were interested in their cause. Others she seemed to be feeling out; she’d asked him his thoughts after a couple meetings, and he’d answered as honestly as he could. He’d made sure to point out that he didn’t know anything about genetically modified wheat, but she said he had to start somewhere.

She was honest to the point of being blunt, he thought. Cheerful enough. She already seemed nicer than most of the senators on the Hill.

He felt almost guilty for wanting her to dislike him. As much as he thought he could grow to like and respect him, he also wanted to get to know Steve.

The President, he meant.

God damn it. He was in trouble.

He sighed and turned on his laptop. He might as well learn more about genetically modified wheat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get a chance to post yesterday, so I'm posting chapters three and four back to back! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Bucky minded himself carefully the next day. Whatever he thought of the President, he intentionally tried not to dwell on it. His priority was the First Lady and her safety while she toured the area with the Mexican President’s wife. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Mrs. Gonzalez was no fan of her personal secretary, nor that the secretary wasn’t fond of her. It didn’t take long to realize why; President Gonzalez’s gaze lingered too long on the younger secretary whenever he was around her, and his hands had a habit of finding the small of her back.

Somehow, Bucky wasn’t entirely surprised when Trip, a member of the First Lady’s cabinet, pulled the secretary aside and the two “accidentally” missed the car with the First Lady and Mrs Gonzalez and had to take another farther behind.

He’d actually come to expect her small staff to do such things. It was evident that they were all exceptionally loyal to her, as the President’s cabinet members were to him. Though she had a staff of almost thirty people, there were only a handful that were with her almost around the clock.

Her Chief of Staff was Antoine Triplett, whom everyone merely called “Trip.” Like the First Lady, his family had ties to the CIA, and the two had known each other since childhood. He’d done two tours in Iraq before his unit was hit by an IED and he’d been ordered home. He’d wanted to go back a third time, but the First Lady had insisted she needed someone better with people than she was. From what Bucky had heard, Trip’s family was happy with the idea, and Bucky thought Trip was an excellent choice for Chief of Staff. He was cheerful but didn’t allow himself or the First Lady to be pushed around, and was incredibly determined and driven. His primarily interest seemed to be in serving the people, and he didn’t hesitate to point out flaws in the First Lady’s plans or even tell her she was wrong.

Daisy Johnson, the First Lady’s Social Secretary, had been with her since the First Lady’s first congressional campaign when Daisy’s foster parents had insisted she get more volunteer hours for college applications. Evidently, through a series of pizza nights and working vacations, she and the First Lady had gotten close enough that the First Lady had written her a recommendation letter, as well as helping her with advice and tuition. As soon as Daisy graduated, she’d joined the First Lady’s congressional staff. She seemed to take special pride in calling the First Lady “Ma’am,” though there was also a hint of teasing to it.

Hope Van Dyne had been a friend from college whose family business was viable competition to the Starks’ on a good day; she weighed in on business issues and told Bucky that the First Lady had called her enough for her opinion after getting elected to Senate that she’d decided to get paid for it. 

Then there was Betty Ross, another childhood friend who had pursued science. Though most of her degrees (and yes, she had multiple degrees, because of course everyone in the room had more education than Bucky did) focused on biology, she knew enough about other areas that the First Lady had asked her to be an official science adviser. She, Van Dyne, and the First Lady sometimes went out for drinks together when May would allow it, sometimes accompanied by Daisy, and Bucky wished they could relax with drinks somewhere not so public. They might have found the experience enjoyable, but Bucky loathed how many mistakes agents could make in darkened bars surrounded by strangers.

The last of the core group was her press secretary, Christine Everheart. She hadn’t been a member of the First Lady’s staff as long as the others, but she was smart enough and sharp enough that the rest deferred to her on how things would come across in the press. She and Trip would sometimes argue - if a discussion with Trip could ever be an argument - about the wording in a speech, but she endeared herself to Bucky by telling the First Lady to stop drinking in public. After a bit of grumbling, the First Lady agreed to drink in the kitchen instead, or even in the President’s suite. After that, Bucky could breathe a little easier.

It was obvious by her staff selection that the First Lady was more interested in using her new position to affect change rather than throw parties, and Bucky was alarmed to realize that most of the improvements they wanted, including gun violence awareness campaigns and more opportunities for women to go into the sciences, would be considered offensive. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised - both the President and First Lady were busy trying to clean up the previous administration’s mess, but the First Lady was bullheaded, even confrontational, when it came to announcing her causes. He helped May and Morse argue that she shouldn’t announce her causes to the press all through Wednesday and Thursday, pointing out that people wouldn’t take kindly to a First Lady who was seen as pushy. Typically, First Ladies stuck to quiet, supportive issues that wouldn’t be considered divisive, like healthy eating or advancing education. If the First Lady could simply choose harmless issues, or even not announce them openly and support them quietly, it would make their jobs much easier.

It was the first time he realized how stubborn she could be. She argued back, stressed the importance of the issues, how much people needed to see the First Lady’s office behind them, didn’t budge an inch. The only concession May could get - with Trip and Christine’s assistance - was that the First Lady wouldn’t release a statement until the matter was settled.

Friday, she came in, accompanied once again by the President, and agreed not to announce everything she would support. Bucky looked at the President after she said it, and he couldn’t miss the brief expression of relief on his face. He didn’t know what the President had said to the First Lady, but Bucky had to admit he was impressed.

He passed the trial run, and then some, without anyone mentioning him being moved to another detail.

* * *

He was part of the First Lady’s protective detail when she and the President flew to a conference in Canada two months later. This time, she was the one being chauffeured around, and Bucky was alert for any sign that she or Daisy might be left out on the street. He wasn’t surprised when nothing of the sort happened, of course, but May seemed to appreciate his paranoia.

It wasn’t a difficult job; the Canadians were friendlier than he could have imagined, the locals understanding, if not thrilled, at the prospect of having their travel plans delayed.

The worst part was having to be pay attention to potential threats when the President was around.

* * *

Sharon sighed as her head hit the pillow. A second later, Steve lay down beside her with a tired sigh that echoed her own. She’d managed to dress for bed, while Steve had just tugged off his dress clothes and settled in wearing only an undershirt and boxers.

She reached to turn off the light, then shifted in bed to curl up against his side.

“You’re that tired, huh?” His voice was heavy; he was half-asleep already. Nonetheless, one of his arms draped around her with reassuring heaviness.

“Hm?”

“You only snuggle when you’re tired.”

“Do not,” she muttered, even though she knew it was true.

He kissed the top of her head. “Do, too. Back when you were trying to find a way not to take money out of the education fund for the general budget, I woke up once and you were completely on top of me. I think I inhaled some of your hair.”

She huffed a drowsy laugh and wrapped an arm around his chest. He was soft and warm and smelled like home. “Liar.”

He didn’t respond, and she was just starting to drift off when he said, “It’s not really what I expected.”

Sharon blinked herself awake. “I would imagine it’s not what anyone expects.”

“Do you miss it? The way we were before?”

Oh, shit. Whatever was bothering him, it was serious. She pushed herself up on an elbow. “Of course,” she said slowly. “But if we were now the way we were then, you and I would probably be going over budget reports together, eating popcorn, drinking beer, and watching _Scandal._ But we wanted to do this because we wanted to do good, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember.”

Her hand stroked his chest. “You okay?”

He covered her hand with his. “Yeah, just... stressed, I guess. I... I just hate making polite chit-chat when there’s work to be done.”

She knew all too well what that was like. She spent far too much of her time sitting with people’s wives and keeping her head down. She was there to support Steve. She had told herself that so often since he’d won the election. She was there to help him. And if she broke the mold, if she rocked the boat, it would just make trouble for him later on. Not that knowing that made silent amiability any easier, but what was she going to do, lobby for him on the Senate floor? That was likely a conflict of interest. And if there was one thing the Press loved, it was a conflict of interest story that it had time to cover. No, if they wanted to be corrupt, they’d have to do corruption on a scale that the media’s head would spin and never be able to follow up. And she and Steve weren’t made like the previous administration. Better not do conflicts of interest at all.

“I know the feeling,” she said softly. “But we’ll do good, Steve. It’ll be worth it. We’ll make sure it is.”

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m bashing my head into a brick wall most days.”

“You know we’re supposed to let the Secret Service bash their own heads into walls so we don’t have to, right?” He only made a non-committal sound in response, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “We’ll find a way, Steve. We always do.”

As tired as she was, she stroked his hair gently until he fell asleep first.

* * *

One of the first things they did on Air Force One was announce that they needed a nap after the nonstop Canadian tour. They each gave a statement to the press before retiring to the bedroom, where they crawled into bed, clothes and all.

“Remember how we’d usually be having sex by now?” Sharon murmured.

“Remember how we used to have the energy?” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her body was too warm against his, the mattress too soft, the plane’s vibrations too distracting. And he had too much to do. He needed to hit the ground running if he wanted to get anything done, but he had little idea in what direction to run. While he was in Canada, protesters had taken to the streets in DC for their rights to bear arms and try to stop the nanny government. It had only been a couple hundred, but he knew people like them were elsewhere. He had to find a way to convince them to give him a chance. He sighed and rolled onto his back.

“Pierce,” Sharon murmured sleepily.

“Hm?”

“You need to convince Senator Pierce. He’s the Majority Leader. The Republicans look up to him and do almost anything he tells them to. You convince him, they’ll follow. And Representative Hawley from South Carolina.”

He licked his lips and stared at the ceiling. “You should get some sleep. You’re tired. We can plan later.”

She groaned and sat up. “But you won’t fall asleep until we have more of a plan, right? So let’s plan.”

Steve had listened to Sharon talk about her coworkers for ages, but he had never realized how much she _knew_ about them. She knew what their favorite causes were, knew their wives and mistresses, knew most of their children, if only by name. He interrupted her once to say, “You’re not going to quiz me on this, are you?”

“I am.” She grinned at him wickedly. “And you won’t like what I’ll make you do to me if you get a wrong answer.”

He huffed. “I think I’ll manage. Especially since if this keeps up, I’ll end up falling asleep on you.”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “There are worse things.”

They were discussing how best to decide which legislators should be called for private and semi-private meals to discuss things further when there was a quiet knock on the door. They each glanced at each other and gave the tiniest of nods to indicate that they were ready to face the grind again, and Steve tucked a strand of Sharon’s hair back into place before calling, “Come in!”

A moment’s fumble with the door, and Agent Barnes came in, carrying two trays. “Sorry to bother you. Figured after that trip you two would rather eat alone.”

Sharon’s shoulders relaxed when she saw who it was, and Steve reached over absently to rub the back of her neck. She exhaled in that way that told Steve she was trying to preserve her dignity, and he redoubled his efforts. After all, as far as Steve was concerned, Barnes had proven his worth; it wasn’t as if he would gossip about the President giving his wife a neck massage, right? And even if he did, even if Barnes told anyone how the neck massage was good enough to elicit a quiet groan from Sharon, Steve could deal with it.

He could also deal with the semi-irritated, almost-amused look Sharon gave him, and he grinned at the thought of what revenge she might take on him.

She took a breath. “You’re a life saver, Barnes.”

Taking that as permission, Barnes stepped farther inside and handed each of them a tray. It was hot, and Steve felt more than a little guilty when he thought of how well he ate on a plane when he couldn’t make sure all the people he represented got food.

It was one more thing he’d have to address while in office.

He lifted the lid from the tray and saw the fish and the assortment of vegetables on the plate. He wasn’t actually certain what all of it was, but the chefs at the White House had never let him down before. He pointed to the tray and looked at Barnes. “Bringing me things like this are why I wanted you,” Steve mused.

Was it just his imagination, or did Barnes’ lips thin a little at that? Steve frowned. No, the agents’ features were more closed off.

“I live to serve, Mr. President.”

“Serve me, he means,” Sharon said cheerfully, already halfway through her peas. As much as Steve could eat, she gave him a run for his money. They’d spent one of their first paychecks on an eating contest to settle once and for all who could eat more. Steve won, of course, and spent the rest of the evening taking care of Sharon and teasing her after she ate too much. “Because I won the coin toss.”

“Coin toss?” Barnes echoed.

Sharon waved her fork between herself and Steve. “We flipped a coin for you.”

Barnes swallowed. After a second, he nodded, his hands folded respectfully before him. “Congratulations, Ma’am.”

He left, and Steve glanced at Sharon. “That seem a little odd to you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? Sometimes I think he’s a bit of a fan of yours. He’s always quieter at first on days when you walk me to the East Wing. At first, he was kind of finding his footing, I guess, but now he’s only more distant on days when he’s around you.” She grinned. “Maybe he’s a fan of yours and really bad at hiding it.”

“Maybe,” Steve echoed, unconvinced. He only realized how long he’d sat staring at the door when Sharon bumped his shoulder.

“Race you to eat the fish,” she challenged.

He grinned. “Can’t wait to hold your hair back and watch you vomit after you lose.”

“Who said true love was dead?”

He flashed her a smile and started stuffing his mouth with fish.

* * *

They reached DC a couple hours before dawn and were greeted by a fresh security team. Bucky wished both the First Lady and the President a good night, ignoring the look the President gave him, and trudged over to the taxi terminal.

They’d go to bed together, he thought. The rest of the day would be mostly clear of meetings, allowing them to rest and spend more time together. He had the day off so he could get some sleep in an apartment that hadn’t seemed so empty before he’d been assigned to the First Lady.

All as the result of a coin toss.

As much as he tried not to think of how his life would be different if he’d been assigned to the President instead, he couldn’t help it, and he spent the night tossing and turning before finally giving in to a fantasy or two.

After all, there was no harm in a little fantasy.


	4. Chapter 4

When Bucky returned to work, it was to find May standing silently against the wall and grinding her teeth. He drew up short when he saw the President on the couch, the First Lady beside him. They looked like they belonged in a magazine, he thought grumpily. One with thick pages and ads for wines and personal airplanes.

Then the President looked up at him and grinned.

The President was grinning at _him._

Bucky pressed his lips together and moved to stand against the wall. He tried not to think about anything he’d thought about the night before.

The President’s grin remained, though it took on that plastic quality that politicians got when they had to smile but didn’t feel like it. 

Bucky quashed the pained feeling that rose in his chest. He took a breath and forced himself to concentrate on the rest of the room. Trip and Daisy were there, sitting on either side of the President and First Lady, poring over papers. The President’s Chief of Staff, Sam Wilson, stood to the side beside a board with dates written on it. Bucky recognized the names on the board; the party leaders for both the House and the Senate, and a couple other influential legislators.

“I still say we should invite some of the major contributors,” Wilson argued. “Like it or not, they’re heavyweights. If legislators think the contributors want something done, they’ll do it.”

The President still looked doubtful.

The First Lady took his hand. “We’ll do it.” She looked to the President. “And we’ll ask the chef to make some of your favorites so you have something to enjoy.”

“Not sure I want my favorites sullied like that,” the President argued. “But okay.” He threw his hands up. “We need them on our side, so I’ll do it.”

Wilson nodded to Trip. “And we’ll work on paring down the agenda topics.”

“Paring down,” the President echoed.

Everyone else in the room, including the First Lady, glanced at each other.

“They’re Congressmen, sweetheart,” the First Lady ventured after a moment. “You have to talk to them carefully and not overwhelm them.”

The President frowned. “They’re not stupid. _You’re_ not stupid.”

“Thank you for thinking so. But most of the people we’re inviting don’t want to help us. If we ask for too much, they won’t give us anything and say it’s _because_ we asked for too much. The smartest thing would likely be to ask for, say, five things, two of which we can give up during negotiations. It improves our chances of getting what we want.”

His frown deepened, but he thought it over. No one pushed him to answer, and Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the President’s thumb stroking the First Lady’s hand. He quickly looked away before he got even more distracted. At length, the President said, “All right. Let’s do it. Sam, I’m going to trust you with this. And you, too, Trip.”

Trip grinned. “Yes, sir.”

The President lifted his head. “May? It’ll take time for them to sort out the schedule. Sharon and I can do the safety training then.”

Sam whistled. “No, you can’t. You’re booked up for the next year, Steve. Or close to.” He turned to May. “But we’re working on rearranging his schedule. He’ll be available next month. I’ll make sure of it.”

May’s fists clenched. “He should have taken the course before he took office.”

Sam shrugged. “And when I find out who dropped the ball on that, I’ll let you know who it was. If for no other reason than to save my own skin.”

“I might look into it myself, too.” Bucky glanced at May, discomfited by the underlying threat in her tone.

Evidently, the others were just as unnerved as he was. The silence that followed was only broken when the President patted the First Lady’s knee and looked to Wilson. “Anything else on the docket?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Wilson took the board from the stand and set it aside. “But I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you. Except for that meeting with the Argentinian ambassador at ten.”

The President groaned, and the First Lady patted his hand. “Don’t worry. We’re going to make a difference, Steve. Just wait.”

Bucky bit the inside of his lip and tried not to think of how he might say that name. His frown only deepened when May told him later that he would have to work through the dinners. He pointed out that the White House had its own protective detail, but her glare silenced him.

And now he had two concerns. The first, how to keep control of himself when he would be around the President more often, and the second, why May didn’t trust the staff that would already be on hand.

* * *

After some debate, they decided to invite the Senate party leaders first, each to separate dinners. Sharon was more at peace with the senators, anyway, and their support would be invaluable.

She hadn’t counted on Hawley’s hedging. They’d had her support during the election, but now she spoke of the impracticality of implementing gun control, widening healthcare access, and other initiatives, of the lack of funding and how they had no money to put into what Steve insisted were investments for the country’s future. It took hours of Steve’s idealistic arguments and Sharon’s own cajoling and empathy for the hardships of Hawley’s job to make any headway at all. By the time Hawley left, her husband had fallen asleep through dinner no fewer than three times, and they only had the promise that Hawley would look over their plans again.

As she slid beneath the covers with a mild headache, she reached to find Steve’s hand in the darkness.

“It’ll be harder from here on out,” he said.

She squeezed his hand. “That mean you want to give up?”

“Hell no.”

She grinned and rolled over to kiss his lips. She might have done more, but it was already close to midnight, and she knew they were both exhausted. “That’s my man,” she teased. She eased herself against him, knowing that he liked the contact after days as fruitless as the one they’d had, and fell asleep.

* * *

After the meeting with Hawley, Steve had even more reservations about having Alexander Pierce over for dinner. He and Sharon had been so confident they would have Hawley’s support, and despite her reassurances, he knew they had somehow lost it.

In contrast to Hawley, Pierce was cheerful as he came in. He greeted Sharon warmly and gave Steve’s hand a firm shake. He joked about the traffic, noted that no one could eat in Washington unless they’d joked about the traffic, and then joked that he was sure all their pleasantries were now out of the way.

Or at least, Steve _hoped_ it was a joke. Sharon laughed, at least, and Steve waved him to a seat.

Pierce glanced around him as he sat. “President Ellis didn’t have service agents in the dining room when he was in office.”

Steve looked at Barnes, then May. He hadn’t really noticed anything odd about it. May had put in a request to increase Sharon’s security, assuring him that it was a preventative measure instead of a response to a specific threat, and he had signed off on it with Coulson.

Barnes stared resolutely at the wall behind Steve’s head; May looked at Pierce as if she’d swallowed something vile. 

“President Ellis also didn’t inspire reactions quite like my wife does,” he said with a grin. Sharon wouldn’t mind the ribbing, he knew. She’d never backed down from a fight as long as he’d known her.

He was proven right when she smiled widely and squeezed his hand. “Flatterer.” She raised an eyebrow at Pierce. “But then, you already know I piss people off, Pierce. And how it’s always for the better good.”

Pierce’s lips thinned as he regarded her. His expression clearly said that they were in opposite parties and there was no way he would think well of whatever she had done. “Is it?”

“Remember how Allen used to leave those fish sandwiches in his desk? I got him to stop.”

“Really?” He looked at her with renewed interest. “And how did you do that?”

Sharon leaned forward, propping her chin in a hand. “I asked. Politely.”

No, she hadn’t. She had taped raw fish under his desk in Allen’s private office, then under his chair in the call center. She had crowed about it to Steve for days until the stench started irritating her. Even then, it was two weeks before she admitted to him that she might have made a mistake. Steve was the one who had gone down to visit her and had invited Allen out to lunch. During the ensuing conversation, he found out that Allen’s wife had been making him fish sandwiches that were so bad he couldn’t eat them. Worse, his wife watched C-SPAN to make sure he kept his lunch on his desk. Steve suspected it was because Mrs. Allen was worried Allen might cheat on her during his lunch break; he’d strongly recommended couples therapy.

And it might have been best if he and Sharon had stayed out of it; the two had ended up getting divorced, with Allen’s mistress moving in with him the next week. It turned out he’d been cheating on his wife at breakfast meetings, not at lunch.

On the other hand, Allen had stopped keeping fish in his desk. So it had been successful, in a roundabout way.

“Sharon can be persuasive,” he agreed.

“I remember,” Pierce said slowly. “We worked together on the energy bill. Your wife can be very adamant, Mr. President.” It wasn’t a compliment.

Sharon smiled complacently, but there was that twitch in the corner that said she was struggling to keep the smile in place.

Steve leaned forward, intentionally drawing Pierce’s eye to him instead of Sharon’s false smile. “I remember when Sharon was a senator. It never sounded like an easy job.”

Pierce’s smile was more genuine than Sharon’s, and some of the tension in Steve’s back disappeared. “Not nearly as tough as yours, I’m sure. Although you make it look easy.”

It was an encouraging beginning.

Naturally, he shouldn’t have had any hope.

They kept the conversation light until dinner arrived. Steve mentioned one of Pierce’s preferred causes that coincided with an initiative he wanted. He and Sam had spent hours talking about what subjects would win Pierce’s cooperation, but Pierce politely and skillfully shut down every attempt. There were times when Steve thought he and Sharon might be making headway, but it came to nothing.

And then, as Pierce stood to leave, he promised not only to think about what Steve and Sharon had said, but that he’d discuss it with others as well.

Steve waited until Pierce was escorted out before looking to May and Barnes. “You two didn’t stop watching him. What did you think?”

May didn’t hesitate. “He’s playing you.”

He nodded; the thought had crossed his mind, as well. He looked to Barnes, but as usual, Barnes wasn’t forthcoming. All he did was lick his lip. Just once. He avoided looking at Steve, glancing instead at May.

At length, Barnes said, “Agreed.”

It was Barnes’ only contribution to the conversation, but Steve remembered the way his tongue brushed against his lip.

That night, he held Sharon close for more reason than a need for comfort. Guilt was odd that way.


	5. Chapter 5

The dinner meetings went on for weeks, broken up intermittently by State dinners and other official functions. Through it all, Bucky watched as the President seemed to get more and more discouraged. Not that the President ever let himself be stopped by it, of course. If anything, he just dug his heels in and fought that much harder to work with people on both sides of the aisle. But his shoulders sagged a little more, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. He and the First Lady tried everything. Passionate arguments, facts, reminding the legislators that if they wanted some bills passed, they would need the President’s signature.

They didn’t bring it up during dinner, but Bucky was present for some of the day meetings where they discussed different dirt on the legislators. Something they could use if they absolutely had to. But both they and their staffs agreed that it was a last resort, and the President in particular was hesitant to blackmail anyone.

Six months into his presidency, and the morning news media started talking about whether or not Rogers was a lame duck president. Bucky, eating cereal in his boxers, nearly threw his spoon at the television screen. None of the pundits made mention of how the President couldn’t run the county alone, nor of how the Constitution required a system of checks and balances which meant Congress could refuse to do what the President wanted. They didn’t even talk about how difficult it was to rebuild democracy and keep it from falling apart, nor that it would take the entire government to do so. No, they were happy to lay the blame squarely on the President, the bastards.

At work that day, the only difference he could see was even more determination, though. The First Lady started touring domestic violence facilities and schools with legislators’ families, something that made May grind her teeth so loudly Bucky could hear it from across the room. The First Lady also agreed to make appearances at some of the spouses’ get-togethers and was even a guest of one child at his show-and-tell at school. When she wasn’t attending events or working at the White House, the First Lady dragged her protective detail and some of her cabinet members to Joe’s Seafood, where many of the legislators held fundraising events. The First Lady seemed to know them all; Bucky was amused to overhear one of the legislators call her “relentless.” That, he thought, was barely scratching the surface.

Meanwhile, the President had amped up his own campaign, sending members of his cabinet to talk with various legislators and lobbyists and identify their interests. Bucky was secretly pleased when Representative Jones was not only the first to agree with many of the President’s ideas but also suggested ways to help them succeed.

The first of the President’s bills passed in June. It would take a while to implement, but within five years, everyone in America would have access to affordable internet. What “affordable” actually meant, no one could say. But the President and the First Lady seemed glad that they’d finally gotten something passed, and the President gave a speech about what it meant for the future of the Nation for everyone to access the infinite resources of the Internet. As usual, it was inspiring. It even made even Bucky hopeful about the human race.

But if hope were real, he’d have to think the glances the President sent his way sometimes meant something.

Sometimes, hope was just cruel.

* * *

“One small victory for us, one giant leap for mankind,” Sharon intoned as she walked over to the bed. At ten o’clock, they were calling it a night earlier than they usually did, but they felt they’d earned it.

And yet, her books and papers were spread over the comforter, and Steve was reading over a speech Erskine and Sam had prepared for him. They had retreated to their bedroom with every intention of celebrating, but they’d ended up working.

He looked up at her, the way the silk negligee hung on her body, and held up his speech. “Do you think I need to avoid saying ‘challenge?' Abe says a lot of people get discouraged by it, but Sam says we need it for emotional impact.”

She crawled into bed beside him. “Have you ever known Abe to be wrong?”

Steve grinned softly and circled the word. “Sam can find another word with emotional impact, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure, too.” She picked up one of her books. After a moment, her finger started moving along the words, a habit she had when she couldn’t concentrate.

“Tired?”

“Mm.” After another moment, she set the book aside and picked up a folder. A minute passed before she set that aside, too. “You know what I’m thinking about?”

“Hm.”

“Camp David.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at her.

“For Thanksgiving. Take some of our staff who don’t have families. And just go and... relax a little.”

“You don’t want to have Thanksgiving at the White House?”

She scooted closer. “I want to have Thanksgiving like we used to. Back when we were in college and had to eat off styrofoam plates.”

Steve groaned. “I told you microwaving that lasagna on that plate wouldn’t work.”

She grinned and kissed his shoulder. “And you were right. Congratulations.”

He held his arm out for her, and she ducked under it and sank against his side. He hadn’t realized before how much he’d come to enjoy having so much contact with her while he slept. Before he’d become President, they’d slept in separate states as much as they had together, and when they shared a bed they tended to take their own space. Unless something was wrong.

Which begged the question. Was something wrong now? Were they constantly in need of the other’s touch?

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she pulled the folder into her lap and started reading. Something about sexual harrassment in the work place. May was going to have an apoplexy if Sharon publicly came out against _that._ Women telling men to stop doing something tended to only make men angry.

No, the increased physical contact wasn’t a need for comfort, he decided. This was what would have happened to them if they hadn’t lived apart so much. If they’d had the opportunity to live together permanently, as they were now doing. This was them being comfortable with each other, being present with each other, as opposed to passing out after sex.

He held her a little closer at the thought.

“Christmas at your parents’ place in Virginia?”

She sighed. “Or here. We haven’t seen the White House at Christmas since last year. It would be a shame to miss it.”

He looked down his nose at her. She and her parents hadn’t gotten along for years; the rift had been there before the two of them had started dating. He had met them to ask for Sharon’s hand, and the last he’d seen them had been at his and Sharon’s wedding. After their deaths, she’d avoided mentioning them. They’d left her everything, but she seemed no more inclined to benefit from their wealth now than she had while they were alive.

“We’ve never had our own Christmas here before,” he agreed. He ducked his head and kissed her neck. “Same protocol? Anyone who doesn’t have family comes over for Christmas?”

She nodded and yawned. “Sounds good. I guess we should start putting the word out.”

He rested his cheek against her head. He wondered if they could invite secret service agents to take holiday meals with them, wondered if they could invite Barnes. Steve had taken another look at his file since the dinners had started and knew he didn’t have any other family. It was something the two of them had in common. The three of them, really. Neither he nor Sharon had any living relatives left. They’d talked about starting a family, but there’d always been a event or a state emergency...

He turned his head to suggest what she thought of inviting Barnes, but she was already asleep. Careful not to wake her, he quietly cleared the bed and tucked her in. He could always ask her later.

* * *

Sharon set a hand on each of Daisy’s shoulders, standing in the middle of the oval that formed what passed for a cabinet meeting. Hope, Betty, and Trip were decidedly relaxed for an official cabinet meeting, though; Hope even had her feet resting in Trip’s lap. “Have I ever told you,” she said, her tone deathly serious, “how glad I am that I hired you for this.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I just asked what you wanted to do for Steve’s birthday.”

“I know,” she answered, dropping her hands. “But we’ve had so much going on it actually slipped my mind.”

Hope pointed a finger at her. “Bad wife!” she accused. “First you forget your husband’s birthday, then you hit on a subordinate!”

Sharon pulled Daisy closer, wrapping her in a tight hug. She jutted her chin out at Hope. “Our love is something you can never imagine, Hope.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I don’t get paid enough to put up with this. Though I guess suing you for sexual harassment would help.”

Sharon let go immediately and made a face at her. “You’re breaking my heart, Daisy. Breaking. My. Heart.”

Daisy held her hand out in front of her. Staring Sharon in the eye, she made a crunching sound as she closed her hand into a fist.

Sharon whistled. “Okay, okay. I’m going to sit down now, all nice and quiet.” She reclaimed her chair at the head of the oval. “Actually, maybe I’ll head out and ask if Steve even has _time_ to celebrate his birthday.”

Trip shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he said. “I have a stack of letters you need to sign. Elementary school kids and fundraisers. And we’ve got letters from concerned citizens and military moms that you need to respond to.”

“And we need to talk about the STEM finalists,” Betty added.

Sharon groaned. “And I was thinking about that. One of the reasons so many women drop out is because there’s so much sexual harassment in the field. Some of the papers I read even contained emails to women from their superiors. We need to address that if we’re going to encourage girls to go into the field. Doesn’t make sense to send them into something that’s going to victimize them later.” She leaned back in her seat, remembered that Betty Ford had last had the chair upholstered before Sharon was even born, and sat straight again. It wouldn’t do to break the damn chair. She needed to get some comfortable furniture in here, she thought. “Fine. Okay. Let’s get to work.” She made a face again.

She could just ask him tonight, she supposed, but Steve rarely knew his schedule anymore, just as she rarely knew hers. They were juggling too many plates. She’d have to talk to him when he had access to his schedule, but that meant she’d be at work. Sam was in charge of Steve’s calendar, but Sam didn’t always join them for dinner. She could call over, but there was no telling who he was with when he took the call; she wouldn’t want him to have to take a call from his wife in front of- who was he meeting with today? The oil lobbyists or the pro-life lobbyists? It didn’t matter anyway. The two of them lived and worked in the same building; calling would be ridiculous.

She pointed to Betty. “STEM.” She pointed to Hope. “Also familiar with STEM.” Trip. “Gate keeper.” Daisy. “Gate keeper.” Her finger lazed around the room until it zeroed in on May. “I don’t suppose you could run over and ask, May?”

“I’ll do it,” Barnes offered. He looked to May. “I have to grab lunch soon anyway.”

May gave Sharon a look that promised they’d be talking about turning her into an errand girl later but nodded. “Grab me something from the mess.”

Barnes nodded, gave one, deeper nod to Sharon, and then left.

Sharon looked at the others with a grin. “Which means after all our work is over with, we can start planning a party.”

* * *

The President had two desks outside his office, one for his senior secretary and one for his junior. The junior secretary had evidently gone to lunch, but Lorraine greeted Bucky cheerfully. “What can I help you with?”

“Message from the First Lady to the President,” he said with a grin. He hadn’t talked with Lorraine much, but he knew she was something of a flirt. It was never mean-spirited, though, something that was surprisingly rare on the Hill. If he weren’t with the Service, he’d probably flirt back with her from time to time.

“Oooh. In that case, let’s not keep either of them waiting.” She pointed to the door. “Go on in. He’s eating lunch, but I don’t think he’ll mind if it’s about his wife.”

Bucky nodded and gave a brief, polite knock before going in, only to find the President hastily chewing a heavily-loaded hot dog and trying to wipe sauerkraut and mustard off his face with a thumb. Bucky swallowed thickly. That wasn’t something he wanted to see if he was going to remain professional around him.

“Barnes! Hi.” The President started to get up, then caught sight of his messy hands and the hot dog threatening to spill condiments on the desk. He hastily tried to shove everything back into the bun with his fingers. “Come on in! What can I do for you?” He licked his thumb clean, and Bucky really, really wished he wouldn’t.

“Uh, the First Lady wanted me to find out what your plans were. For your birthday.”

“Oh.” The President licked his other fingers clean as he sorted files around on his desk. Bucky willed himself to look away with mixed results. “Uh... Sam has the schedule. I’ve got to be honest, I completely forgot my birthday was coming up. It doesn’t seem really important, you know?”

Bucky pressed his lips together. Cautious, he moved forward and grabbed a napkin from the corner of the President’s desk.

The President looked at it, then at his hands, and Bucky would be damned if the President didn’t look embarrassed. “Sorry. Don’t tell?”

Bucky grinned. “That you eat a hot dog like a normal person? Sure.”

“Thanks. And maybe don’t mention the hot dog, too. It isn’t kosher.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were Catholic.”

“I am, but Abe - Dr. Erskine - is Jewish. I try to eat kosher when he’s around.”

“Oh.” That was... nice. Unexpectedly nice. And a new thing not to think about when the President was around. Bucky had a fondness for nice people. “So do you think you’ll have time for any sort of party July 4?”

The President grinned. “I’m an American president born on the Fourth of July. I think there might be some celebration on the books. But maybe we can go to Camp David the weekend after? Sharon and I were thinking of going there for Thanksgiving anyway, so it’ll give us a chance to scout the place out. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask. Are you Secret Service types allowed to... I don’t know. Hang out with the people you protect?”

Bucky frowned and tried to keep his heart from beating so hard. Was the President saying he wanted to hang out with him? Not that Bucky would read anything into that. He wouldn’t. “How so, sir?”

“Well, Sharon and I usually do holidays with people who don’t have any holiday plans. I was thinking that, if you wanted, you could join us. Thanksgiving at Camp David, Christmas at the White House.” He looked around the office as if he’d just realized something. “If you’re not sick of being here by then, I mean.”

Right. It wouldn’t be hanging out with him exclusively. He was a married man. And Bucky was an idiot. “Fraternization is frowned upon, Mr. President.” Even though Bucky himself likely needed that reminder far more than the President.

The President swallowed. “Right. Uh... well. That’s a shame. And- Tell Sharon that either I or Sam will call with my schedule? Or I’ll tell her no later than tonight.”

Bucky nodded and retreated to the door. Noticing a yellow splotch next to the President’s lips, Bucky pointed to the spot on his own face; the President quickly wiped his face with a napkin and nodded his thanks. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

The President’s expression changed, and he tensed. Bucky no sooner stepped forward in alarm than stopped as the President looked at him, and was it his imagination, or were the President’s pupils wider?

The President cleared his throat. “No, thank you. That will be all.”

The voice was firm, authoritative.

And Bucky thought he knew why. It seemed the President had a thing for being called “Sir.” Or at least, Bucky _thought_ he did. That could be problematic for a man in his position. But... also very, very useful.

Not that Bucky would use it. He couldn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

Okay, maybe a little.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve’s heart pounded after Barnes left. He’d never been happier that the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office was thick, impossible to see through and see under. So long as he kept his back to the window, no one would know he had an erection.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of Barnes, of the way Barnes had looked at him when Steve had licked his fingers, of the way Steve had wanted Barnes to wipe away the mustard from Steve’s cheek with his hand. At the moment, Steve didn’t want to think about how strong Barnes’ fingers might be, not when he had a meeting about the ongoing situation in the Middle East in an hour.

God, he hoped he didn’t think about Barnes and the Middle East simultaneously enough that the Middle East started turning him on. He didn’t want to get hard during a discussion on terrorism.

No, he had to remember that he was married. And he loved Sharon. He did. She supported him, she made him laugh. She was smart and made groan-worthy puns and the sex was still incredible when they managed to have it.

He loved her. He needed to remember that.

By the time Abe came in with a brief of different terrorist groups and the methods they used to recruit new members, Steve was calmer.

Abe looked at the cold hot dog on Steve’s desk in distaste. “Really, Steven? No vegetables?”

Steve swallowed thickly and looked down at his hot dog. “Sauerkraut?”

Abe sighed and shook his head. “I’ll have the chef send up some healthier options.”

Steve nodded. Abe had been one of his history professors in college and had become something of a friend, then father figure. Abe was one of the first people Steve had talked to about running for office, and his insight had been so valuable that he’d asked him if Abe would be part of his staff. Sometimes, Steve got the impression that Abe missed teaching, but he also seemed to enjoy the found family he’d forged with Steve and Sharon.

Another reason he couldn’t think of Barnes.

Abe nodded at the hot dog. “Is that kosher?”

Steve groaned.

* * *

Sharon sighed as she slid under the shower spray, the steam billowing in welcoming clouds. Overall, the day had been relaxing. Or at least, relaxing compared to most of the ones she’d had at the White House. They’d even started planning Steve’s birthday party at Camp David. She didn’t have the words to express how glad she’d be to get away for a weekend. Fireworks, unfortunately, were out. May was adamant that there be nothing explosive around the First Family.

Honestly. Safety took all the fun out of everything.

Around three, they’d been interrupted by a group of girls dressed like Supergirl who were touring the White House with Hawley. Sharon and her cabinet had joined the girls on the tour, and Sharon had told them stories about her time as a senator before they went to the Capitol. Steve was being treated to dinner by a special interest group, and Sharon and her group had ordered a pizza and talked until it was time for everyone else to go home. All in all, it had been a surprisingly enjoyable day.

Which probably meant that tomorrow was going to be worse. After all, she had nothing to do the rest of the night but read reports on sexual harassment. Maybe she should skip it and go straight to bed.

She was shampooing her hair when she heard the bathroom door open. “Steve?”

He opened the door to the shower and stood looking at her for a moment; she shuddered as the cold air hit her. “Who else would it be?” he asked distractedly. His eyes traced the curves of her body.

She shrugged and leaned against the bathroom wall. He was still dressed in his tuxedo; the tie was undone and hanging from his collar. She wondered if he knew how hot he looked like that. “Sometimes security comes in when they need one of us, you know.”

“Mm. If they’re coming in when you’re in the shower, I think I need to lodge a complaint.” He leaned forward, his grip sliding along the shower door. “Mind if I join you?”

“You promise to wear that?”

He looked down at himself, and his eyebrows rose as if he had only just realized what he was wearing. He looked back at the shower spray. “Not sure I want to answer any questions from Sam about why my tux is ruined in the morning. But if you want to get that shampoo out of your hair and join me out here... Wearing what you are now...”

Sharon stepped under the spray with no hesitation. When she next opened her eyes, he was holding her towel open for her. Instead of letting her take it and dry herself, he insisted on drying her instead, his hands slow and steady and sure. She stood on the bathroom mat, her hair dripping, watching him as he rubbed the towel over her body and occasionally kissed her skin as he watched her in return.

At last, he stretched upward. He was a couple inches taller than she was, enough that she could look up at him without hurting her neck, but now she didn’t know whether to look up at his face or down at the tent in his trousers.

She decided on the tent.

“Get against the wall,” he growled.

She shivered and stepped backward, and he followed, matching her step for step, his eyes dark and smoldering. God, she loved him.

He reached out to tug her arm toward the bathroom door, and she understood. She changed her course to the bedroom wall, and, when he had her pinned against it, he reached between them to unzip his fly.

“Want some help with that?” she asked.

He closed his eyes as if momentarily pained, and she grinned to herself. He was only human, after all; he could fumble with things when sex was on the line. He still sometimes needed help getting some of her bras undone.

And then his lips were on hers, hot and rough and demanding, and she sank into it right before he sank into her, and her night became a struggle not to cry out so loudly the Secret Service agents ran in to make sure they were all right.

Later, she glanced at the clock on the bedside and panted as she looked over at him. “Good dinner, then?”

He grinned, and she propped her head up with a hand to get a better look at him. He was smug; he had every right to be, given that he’d made her come three times already. “It was all right.” His head rolled, and he again traced her naked body with his eyes. He’d always been interested in art; he’d even sketched Sharon soon after they’d started dating. Sometimes she wished she’d encouraged him to sketch more. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She was too tired to move all the way against him, but his hand was close enough that she could kiss it. “You okay?”

“Fine. Looking forward to a break from all this. If only for a weekend.”

She nodded and let her head fall on the mattress. “I was thinking just before you came. In the shower, I mean. I mean- You know what I mean.” He grinned at her, and she continued. “May vetoed the fireworks, though. Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s more about hanging out. And I’m sure someone’s going to set some off, somewhere. Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday to you,” she chimed in.

He stretched out and relaxed on the sheets. “I invited Barnes to join us. For the holidays.”

“Mm. And?”

Steve took a breath and did his best imitation of Barnes. “Fraternization is frowned upon, Mr. President.”

She lifted her head. That had been one of the worst impressions she’d ever heard. She grinned and scooted a little close before realizing her body was too heavy with exhaustion. She lay down again with a sigh. “That’s too bad. Come to think of it, he was kind of quiet for the rest of the day. Distracted. I think May’s going to have a chat with him.”

“Oh?”

She shrugged. “I think he forgot to get lunch after talking to you. Probably just hungry, poor guy.”

Steve stared at the ceiling. A tent formed in the sheets.

She grinned at him. “Seriously?” Okay, maybe she _could_ move her body. Just a little more. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

He ran his fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. She’d need another shower in the morning; so would he. “You can always tell me again.”

“I love you,” she told him. Moving closer, she repeated it, then kept repeated it until she was kissing him and straddling his thighs.

* * *

Fantasies weren’t working. Fantasies had ended with Bucky in a men’s room stall in the West Wing, his cock in his hands as he thought about the President licking his fingers, licking his lips, the way the President’s expression had changed, had gone slack when Bucky had called him “sir.”

Fantasies were a distraction. He’d forgotten to get himself and May lunch, had spent too much time collecting himself and cleaning himself up. And then all the while he’d followed the First Lady around, his thoughts had slid again and again to the President.

And to Camp David, to Thanksgiving, to Christmas, to how there was enough room under the desk for Bucky to hide there and suck the President off, to lick him and suck him until the President fell apart and came into Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky would call him sir and ask if there was anything else he could do.

No. _No._ The President would be in the President’s Bedroom right now, likely with the First Lady. They could even be having sex - it was a badly-kept secret that the two of them were ridiculously, disgustingly in love. 

But God, Bucky wanted that. He wanted to share a bed with someone, he wanted the President’s cock buried deep within him, he wanted to bury himself as far as he could in the President, with the President bent over his desk or his bed or his chair. Goddamn it, it didn’t matter. He wanted to fuck the President and be fucked by him and be near him.

He had to stop. He knew he had to stop. He had to be at work in six hours and the fantasies were just going to fuck him over in the end.

The President’s expression had gone slack, his body had tensed. He’d been turned on. Bucky knew it; he’d seen it. The President had been turned on by _him._ By Bucky Barnes, former army sniper and current Secret Service agent. By Bucky Barnes, the guy with the efficiency apartment whose biggest splurge in the past five years was cable. By Bucky Barnes, the First Lady’s Secret Service detail.

It was wrong. Bucky knew it was wrong. But he also couldn’t help himself.

Maybe, he lied to himself, if he could get all his fantasies out now, he would be fine later. 

Bucky’s head dropped back on the mattress, and he reached down to stroke his cock again, then to start pumping it as he thought of the President’s face over and over and over again.

Fantasies at home were probably fine, he told himself. As long as he didn’t do anything at work anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Two things Steve knew would always be a constant for his presidency were unrest in the Middle East and tensions with Russia. There was no end in sight with either one, and discussions in the Situation Room and even with his own Cabinet could continue long into the night as everyone tried to find a long-term solution and found none.

In a way, he was almost relieved to have something more challenging to turn his mind to than listening to children’s recitals or sitting still for speeches at whatever event he was attending. It kept his thoughts from straying to Barnes, kept him from thinking that he wanted to know more than what was in the man’s file.

He knew that Barnes had enlisted in the Army straight out of high school for six years and had served three of them before receiving a dependency discharge. Within two years, his little sister had passed away, and his parents followed shortly thereafter. Barnes had gone to college and had applied for the Secret Service soon after graduation, with a Bacherlor’s in Criminal Justice; he’d minored in Security Services.

Not that it meant anything. Steve didn’t need to know anymore than that. It was probably more than he needed to know, really.

At least he had Sharon, he reasoned. When thoughts of Barnes became too much, she was there. She never seemed to suspect why he made love to her more often now, and yes, it was making love, because he loved her. 

It just felt sometimes like what he had with her wasn’t enough, and it made him hate himself all the more. He loved her. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Barnes?

* * *

“Are you sure you need all this, Ma’am?” Barnes asked.

Sharon slid her sunglasses into place and flashed him a wide grin. She hadn’t packed _that_ much. They were only there for a weekend, after all. “Barnes. If it’s in there, we need it.”

Barnes shook his head. “You didn’t run the sparklers by Agent May.”

“Forgiveness and permission, Barnes. Forgiveness and permission. Besides, you’re in a position to save me if the house burns down.”

He frowned, and she wrinkled her nose at him. It never seemed to charm him the way it did Steve, but she could hope, right?

The other SUV pulled up beside theirs, and Daisy and Trip exited, bickering amiably about what kind of tour Sharon should go on in the next couple of months. Her Cabinet had decided that Sharon should support some of her causes on a national platform before failing to agree on _which_ cause.

She supposed she could have made it easy on them and only chosen one cause to support, but Sharon had never been one for limits. She wanted to support working women, stay-at-home moms, victims of sexual assault and domestic violence, women who wanted to study and women who wanted to get their hands dirty. She wanted to support children, the military, the orchestra. There were too many ways to make the world a little bit better to turn her back on any of them.

And her Cabinet’s squabbling would just have to be the price she paid, she supposed.

She nodded to May, in the car with Daisy and Trip, and then looked to Barnes. “Looks like I’ll have to enjoy this little vacation while I have it.” His only answer was an expression of agreement, and she leaned in to pull her suitcase from the trunk. “Hide the sparklers.”

The inside of Camp David, she concluded, was worse than the outside. The previous president hadn’t bothered to ever go, holed up as he was in his Florida fantasy land, and though some president before him had updated the patio furniture, the rest of the house was painfully dated with sixties kitsch. All the walls were wooden paneling, and the patterned carpet looked like someone had decided a passing trend was timeless. The only up-to-date object in the room was the television.

She looked back at Barnes, who followed her with the box of sparklers and some groceries. “This is the sort of camp we would avoid if we were in a slasher movie, right?”

“You’re perfectly safe, Ma’am.”

Sharon frowned. She’d thought that Barnes had started to relax a while ago, but lately he’d been positively stiff. Ma’am this, Ma’am that. Always standing around, stony-faced. And he’d taken to agreeing with her more often that not, too, which was especially grating. She knew he would never normally agree with her so much. What had changed? She looked down the hall. 

“To the left,” Barnes said, and she followed his directions to the Presidential bedroom.

At least it was roomy, she thought. Steve liked big beds. And the view out the window was magnificent. She wandered over to get a better look at the mountains, currently lush and green. When they came back in November, the mountains would be covered in snow. If God could work a miracle, Sharon thought, maybe they’d get snowed in until Christmas.

She heard Barnes set the box down and turned.

“Don’t light _any_ of these without me around,” he ordered.

She sighed. “You’re getting to be worse than May, you know.”

May appeared in the door, and Sharon jumped. “I heard that.” Damn it. May glanced at Barnes, then at Sharon. “Daisy and Trip are going to bed early tonight,” she said in a tone that said Sharon should do the same. “I made them leave their folders on the kitchen table. You don’t have to look at them until Monday. “The President’s meeting gets out in two hours, he’ll be on the road then. Wilson and Barton will stay with you at Aspen, and Dr. Erskine and the others will be in the other cabins.”

Sharon bit her lip. Technically, Camp David was a misnomer, as it referred to the entirety of the area instead of just one campsite, including the cabins where the rest of her and Steve’s staff would stay. The Presidential building was technically Aspen Lodge. Leave it to May to be picky about what to call things. “Think I can survive all the testosterone?”

May raised an eyebrow. “If you can take on Barnes in a fight, I’m transferring him to another detail.”

“I’d deserve that,” Barnes said with a nod.

“You’re both assholes,” she told them. She sized up Barnes and made a face. No, she probably couldn’t take Barnes in a fight, but it wasn’t like she didn’t stand any chance at all. Her aunt’s work with the CIA meant Sharon knew some things about self-defense. Still, she hadn’t even sparred with anyone in years. He’d probably win.

Probably, but not definitely.

May smirked. “We’ll see how you do in your protective training. In the meantime, Barnes will keep you safe.”

“And if I don’t, May will kill me.” Barnes looked around the room. Probably looking for bugs or explosives, she thought wryly. Another security team had looked the place over before they’d arrived, but that never seemed to stop May, Barnes, or Morse. The good thing about being President and First Lady was that they had security looking after them better than they themselves could ever have done.

“True,” May agreed. “Morse and I are taking perimeter patrol, but we’ll check in from time to time.”

Sharon nodded. “Sounds good. Pretty sure my first order of business is going to be a nap, though.”

May nodded. “In that case, I’ll just take those sparklers away so you don’t burn anything or anyone.” She swept past Barnes and rummaged briefly through the box, pulling out anything she deemed dangerous.

Sharon glared at Barnes over May’s head, but he shrugged in a not-my-fault gesture. Sure, she thought. _Sure._

Seconds later, they were alone and staring at each other in her and Steve’s bedroom. He glanced at the bed, then a picture of Mount Rushmore hanging on the wall. Sharon made a face; she knew _one_ thing she was going to do when she redecorated in here. If she ever got to it, she supposed. She hadn’t even had time to put up her and Steve’s wedding photos in their White House bedroom. If not for Daisy taking the initiative, her desk wouldn’t have any pictures on it at all.

“I’m in the next bedroom over. Let me know if you need anything, Ma’am.”

And they were back to being formal. She frowned at him. “Hey, Barnes. Look. I know I’m... you know. First Lady and all. Your protectee, I guess. But if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me about it. You know that, right?”

Suddenly, his eyes were boring into her. But whatever it was that was bothering him, he didn’t say. “I’ll keep it in mind, Ma’am. As far as I know, though, everything’s fine.” He gave her a nod, then headed out to the hall, closing the door behind him.

She sighed and kicked off her shoes. Okay. That hadn’t gone over as well as she’d thought it would. But then, she hadn’t expected him to tell her anything. At least she’d made the offer.

Worn down, she crawled into the large bed and claimed what would probably end up being her side. At least tonight, she and Steve would be able to spend time together, just relaxing. They hadn’t been able to do that in ages.

* * *

He’d stood in the President’s bedroom. He’d seen the President’s bed. The President would be there soon, sleeping.

Bucky tried not to think about it. Instead, he made himself familiar with the building. He’d studied the maps when he was first assigned to the First Lady’s detail and again after it was announced they’d come to Camp David for a holiday. He didn’t think of it as reviewing the other agents’ work, even though, essentially, that was exactly what he was doing. He suspected that was why May and Morse were working with the agents along the perimeter. They were making sure nothing got past the perimeter agents just as he was doing with the security team that had already checked the building.

Sometimes he wondered if May was being paranoid, but May also had a point about the First Lady’s training. And the President’s, too, for that matter. For someone to drop the ball on that was big.

Done with the tour, he checked the kitchen. The President had wanted to cook for himself and his friends, but Dr. Erskine had strongly suggested bringing his chef in case he wanted to relax and not end up cooking for everyone all weekend. The area was set up for the chef, though he hadn’t arrived yet. For now, it was just Bucky and the First Lady. 

Which was surreal, really. He’d never seen her with so few people all around at any moment, and now the only person was him. It meant that May must have an enormous amount of trust in him.

He sat on the couch and read a book on the military while he waited for anything to happen. Relaxing was one thing, but being bored was another.

He was undeniably bored when the First Lady came out of the bedroom and rubbed her eyes. Peering around the room, she frowned. “Steve isn’t here yet?”

_Steve._ The President. Who liked Bucky - maybe - and in whose bedroom Bucky had stood. “Just us. Want something to eat?”

“I’ll wait.” She dropped onto the couch beside him, her clothing wrinkled and the crease of a pillow still on her cheek. “Want to watch TV?”

He handed her the remote. Part of him was actually curious about what sort of television she’d watch; he didn’t think he’d ever seen her watch anything but C-SPAN. He was pleasantly surprised when she settled on a baseball game. It wasn’t football, but it would do.

When evening fell, he got up to turn on some lights and close the curtains. She sent off a text and frowned at the response. “Steve’s meeting is running late. He’s still in DC.” She set her phone on the table and hugged herself. Damn it, he wished she didn’t look so upset. He knew how she’d been looking forward to this.

“Let’s eat. What do you feel like?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Can you cook?”

“Nope. But I can ask what you feel like.”

“Like...” She tapped her finger against her chin. “A tree. My leaves blowing in the wind.” She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers as she grinned, and he rolled his eyes. She followed him into the kitchen. “I can’t cook, either. Steve grew up cooking, but I didn’t, really. How about sandwiches?”

Bucky checked the fridge. “Looks like we’ve got sandwich supplies here.”

She checked the pantry. “Here, too.”

The next couple hours were pleasant enough. They made sandwiches and returned to watching the game, where the First Lady asked which team he was rooting for before resolutely declaring she was rooting for the other team. They trash-talked each other’s teams until his team won. She wrinkled her nose at him, and it occurred to him that the gesture was something she mostly did with her husband. He frowned and looked away, pulling out a deck of cards. They got potato chips to use as poker chips, which meant that both of them ate their winnings to the point that neither knew who was in the lead.

She got another text at nine in the evening that the President wouldn’t be able to leave until morning. She frowned at her screen for several moments before sending off a response and looking at Bucky. “Looks like it’s the two of us tonight.”

He shook his head. “One of us.”

Her frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you’re abandoning me, too.” It was a joke, but it fell flat.

He forced a grin. “Nope. You’re going to bed. It’s getting late, and you need the rest.”

She made a face at him. “Are you saying I look tired?”

He eyed her exaggerated solemnity. “Yes,” he said at last.

She glared at him, but the effect was ruined by a yawn.

He grinned. “You’ve worked hard, Ma’am. You came here to relax. So go relax.”

She grunted. “I _was_ relaxing. Until you started acting like my _mom._ ”

He made his voice higher-pitched. “Now you run along to bed. When you wake up, I’m sure the President will be here.” He looked over at her, only to find that she was trying not to laugh. He grinned. “What? Did that not sound like your mom?”

“ _Just_ like her. Creepily like her. Don’t ever do that again.”

He grinned. “That depends on how much I’ll have to mom you.”

She groaned and pushed herself off the couch. “Fine, fine, I’m going, I’m going. Good night, Barnes.”

“Good night, Ma’am.”

Once she was in her bedroom, he let his head fall against the pillows. His job was to protect the First Lady, and he was proud to do so. She was smart, funny, down-to-earth, could take a joke... All qualities he liked.

And he had the awful suspicion that the President knew Bucky would be in the bedroom next to theirs and had delayed joining her just to avoid him.

He silenced the thoughts of what that might mean and checked in with May instead.

* * *

Steve stretched his arms over his head and looked at Sam and Abe as the last of the oil shiek’s entourage left the room. They predicted that oil was dying in their area and had wanted to talk to Steve about their local economy surviving without a dependency on oil. Most of the discussion had felt more like a negotiation for new trade possibilities, and even his bones ached with how tired he was. “Sorry that took so long.” Not really; there were times when they could have ended the meeting and Steve had deliberately said something to get discussion going again. He wanted to go to Camp David, he did. But he didn’t think it was a good idea to see _everyone_ who would be there.

“You brought up good points,” Abe murmured. He rubbed his nose. “You know what they’ll want, of course.”

“Investments in the area to find new sources of revenue for their people without emptying their own pockets, and an increased American military presence to protect them and their assets,” Steve answered. There were times when Abe tested him that he found it annoying, but those times were rare. Abe testing him forced him to come up with answers and ways to defend them. He’d become the man who could be president because of Abe.

“Will you do it?”

Steve leaned back and shook his head. “Can’t. It’ll cause more unrest in the area and needlessly risk American lives. I’ll let it sit awhile, let negotiations continue so we can learn more about the situation, and finally explain that my advisers have informed me that our presence in their country would actually put our people’s lives at more risk.”

“Sure,” Sam joked. “Blame us.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late, but if we leave now, we can get there in four hours.”

“Three,” Barton interrupted from the wall. “Though if you let me drive, I’ll get us there in two.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Steve, silently cajoling him.

Steve sighed. “Am I packed?” he asked Sam.

“I even stuck in your binky.”

Steve rolled his eyes and nodded to Barton as he thought. They had planned to leave hours ago, but if he played this right, maybe he could wait until morning...

In the end, it was the photo of Sharon on his desk that decided him. It wasn’t a good photo by any means, too dark and a little blurry. Sam had taken it of them after he’d spent hours helping them move into their college apartment. It was him, Sharon, and Sam’s foot - Sam had insisted he should be represented, thank you - with boxes of pizza and bottles of cheap beer. His and Sharon’s hair were in parts frizzed and other parts heavy with sweat, and the two of them were beaming at the camera.

She’d been looking forward to relaxing at Camp David with him for weeks, had left early to make sure things would be ready for him.

And he was being an ass by making her wait.

Barnes be damned.

He nodded to Barton. “Let’s do it. We’ll bring pillows for anyone who wants to sleep in the car.”

* * *

Hours later, Barton eased open the door to Aspen Lodge (there was even a hokey wooden sign above the door saying “Aspen.” Sharon would hate that; she didn’t like hokey) and moved aside to let Sam, Steve, and Abe in. The three men had all slept in the car, but Abe was still mostly asleep. He was nearly seventy now, and Steve kept a wary eye on him. He’d seen the way Abe rubbed his fingers as if they ached. 

He stopped when he caught sight of Barnes on the couch, the remains of a card game on the table. Steve glanced at the others as they trudged down the hall. He moved closer to Barnes.

He wished Barnes wouldn’t look at him like that; it didn’t help Steve feel in control of himself. He stood awkwardly as he realized he had no idea what to say. When he thought of Barnes, he didn’t think of talking, really.

“I just wanted you to know that nothing’s going to happen,” he said. He wasn’t even sure Barnes understood what he was talking about.

Barnes swallowed and nodded. “Your wife is a good woman. Sir.”

Steve’s eyes flashed on Barnes face. The way he’d said that... And shit. Great. Now he was getting hard.

_No._

“I know,” he said.

Barnes was looking at the bulge in Steve’s pants.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “And you promised to protect her. I promised to be loyal to her.”

Barnes lifted his eyes to Steve’s face. “I understand, sir.”

Steve took a breath. It felt like the first in a very, long time.

He heard a door open behind him, and Sharon’s sleepy call. “Steve?”

Barnes nodded toward the hall. “She wanted to stay up and wait, but I made her go to bed. She needs rest.” His eyes were steady on Steve. “And I promised to protect her. Not just physically, either.”

Steve had more control over himself now, but he was going to remember the way Barnes looked at him. He nodded. “Good.” He turned toward the bedroom and smiled at Sharon, with her rumpled hair and nightgown. “Missed you too much to wait until morning,” he told her, wrapping an arm around and tugging her in close.

She chuckled as she felt his hardness, and he tugged her into their bedroom. A photo of Mount Rushmore sat on the floor, and he had a feeling Sharon would make other changes soon. But she’d be too busy for a while. Especially tonight. 

She murmured in his ear, “Allow me to welcome you properly, Mr. President.”

Steve closed the door behind him and tried to leave all thoughts of Agent Barnes outside.


	8. Chapter 8

The weekend at Camp David was pleasant enough; everyone took advantage of the pool, and Steve insisted on grilling hot dogs. They sang happy birthday to him at least twelve times. Sharon had brought along sparklers that she’d hidden from May and the other Secret Service agents, and Steve grinned at how irritated May and Barnes looked when she presented the sparklers to him. It was easy to forget that Sharon had been raised in part by her aunt, who not only had been a spy but had been Director of the CIA in a time when most women weren’t trusted to run a business. Barnes and May would learn.

And so would Steve. He kept his distance from Barnes. Tried to keep his mind off him as much as possible. Even though the image of him reading at the poolside table in a T-shirt and exercise shorts was rather distracting.

They returned to the White House Sunday night and went back to the grind on Monday. Commencement address requests needed to be approved. Steve agreed to do speak at his old high school so his and Sharon’s university, planning their ceremony at nearly the same time, would be forced to ask Sharon instead; she’d rather do that one, he knew. There were concerts to attend, and he was required to attend the opening of President Ellis’s library. Which reminded Sam that Steve had to make plans for his _own_ library. Steve asked Abe to oversee that.

Other events were less pleasant. Two American pilots were shot down over China, leading to some conflict that took a couple days to resolve. He got the pilots back and ignored the pundits who said he should have shot nukes at China, if only to show people not to mess with the United States. No one could even tell him why the pilots had been over China in the first place. There were two automobile recalls that were somehow his fault, not to mention the latest salmonella scare. Sam told him that someone had also called to blame Steve for the cancellation of a Saturday Night Live recording.

“Imagine all the damage I could do if I tried,” Steve told him.

“Don’t even joke,” Sam warned.

It was October before Steve gave in and masturbated alone in the bathroom one night, thinking of Barnes watching him all the while.

* * *

Being First Lady was a drag, Sharon thought as she handed out medallions to women at a DC gardening championship. It wasn’t that she’d done so much more when she was a senator, but now it often felt like she had to find time to make a difference. It shouldn’t feel this way. She’d spent more than half her time as a senator fundraising, calling people, networking. And she felt like she’d accomplished more then than she did now.

Sometime in September, she actually had Daisy run the statistics.

“Empirical evidence that you’re right,” Daisy said as she handed them over.

“Freaking hate being right,” she muttered. She read them over despite the sick feeling in her gut. It shouldn’t be this way. It _shouldn’t._ “Daisy? Can you get me more research for this? Look at where Steve and I are getting blocked. I want to see if there’s a pattern.”

Maybe, if she could identify why she and Steve weren’t making headway, she could obliterate it. At least then, they might be able to accomplish something.

* * *

Thanksgiving holidays were right around the corner, and Bucky fought not to laze against the wall. Meetings had petered out as more legislators left, many of them before their respective houses were adjourned. No surprise, really, since most legislators left early every year. May had even given Morse permission to leave early, just as the First Lady had sent Daisy and Trip home already. Betty and Hope had left earlier that week on Hope’s private jet to spend time with their fathers, something Hope had been more outspokenly against than Betty, though neither seemed particularly thrilled. Christine had called to say she was staying in Washington, but she would appreciate it if the First Lady could stay out of the news until after the break.

The only people in the White House who still seemed interested in working were the First Lady and the President.

And then the call came that the President was sending his staff home and taking the rest of the day off, and Bucky sighed as he amended his thought. The First Lady was the only person left working.

She began searching for something on her desk to no avail. She pulled drawers out and snapped them shut, then returned to searching for papers on her desk only to scowl in frustration. She looked around the empty room, reached for her phone, and paused. “Daisy’s probably on the plane right now, right?”

May nodded. 

The First Lady looked at the time on her computer. “Damn it. May, can you run to my bedroom and get those folders on poverty rates for Native Americans? The whole stack, please.”

“Ma’am, I’m in charge of your security, not in retrieving your forgotten homework.”

The First Lady made a face and pushed herself to her feet. “Fine, fine. I’ll run down and get them myself.”

May sighed and glanced at Bucky. “Make sure there’s a guard outside to cover for you, and you do it,” she said. “No point in all of us running down there.”

Bucky blinked at her.

“You know where the First Lady lives.”

He did. She lived with the President. The First Lady had her own bedroom that connected to the President’s, but everyone knew she slept with him. In the Presidential bedroom. Where the President slept. He nodded.

The First Lady looked at him gratefully. “The nightstand in the bedroom. Thank you.”

Bucky nodded again and slipped out of the room. Ward was there, and Bucky nodded to him as he set off. Unbidden, the words came like a song. The Presidential Bedroom. The Presidential Bedroom. Technically, it was the President’s Bedchamber, but he didn’t care. The Presidential Bedroom, where the President slept.

He’d done a terrible job of trying to forget the President, that was for damn sure. How could he have succeeded, though? Seeing that tent in the President’s pants, the growing erection, Bucky _knew_ he wasn’t imagining things.

He nodded to Rumlow, stationed outside the bedroom - the _Presidential_ bedroom. “Retrieving files for the First Lady.”

Rumlow smirked. “Glad I don’t have to retrieve shit for a chick.” Bucky clenched his jaw and waited for Rumlow to move aside. Rumlow knew it, too, and made him wait several more seconds before stepping to the side and saying, “Don’t wake him up.”

Bucky was already through the door with it closed behind him before the words sank in. He gulped. He hadn’t thought- He’d known the President had called it a day already, but he hadn’t thought the President would be in his bedroom. While Bucky was there.

_Shit._

Bucky crept through the sitting room and knocked softly on the bedroom door. “Mr. President?” he murmured.

There was a gasp, and Bucky quickly peered inside. There was no threat in sight, but there was the President on the bed, one leg propped up as if that would do anything to hide his lowered trousers and hardened cock.

Bucky stared at it until the President cleared his throat. Bucky licked his lips. “The First Lady sent me for some folders,” he said numbly.

The President cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. “I thought it was weird that she’d leave them behind. I should have sent someone over with them.” He hesitated, then turned to reach the nightstand on the far side of the bed.

Bucky hurried into action. “Let me.” He walked quickly around the bed and grabbed the stack of folders only to find his eye drawn once again to the President.

The President stared back. “I’m married,” he said slowly.

Bucky nodded.

“I won’t do anything,” the President said. It didn’t escape Bucky’s notice that the President didn’t sound as certain as he had at Camp David.

Bucky took a breath. He tried to look away and couldn’t. “I’ve thought about you, too,” Bucky admitted. He bit his lip as he saw the President’s chest fall as he exhaled. “And I don’t want to hurt your wife. I meant it when I said I would protect her.” He pressed his lips together and inclined his head toward the President’s erection. “But I can help with that real quick.” His voice trembled. This was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it. “I can- just once.”

The President’s jaw was hanging open, his eyes bright and nervous and needy. Whether anything came of this moment or not, Bucky was going to think about that expression on the President’s face later tonight. “I- She- Just once?”

Bucky nodded.

The silence stretched what felt like an eternity. “She can’t know,” the President said shakily. “Not that this means anything, but I- I wouldn’t want her to know.”

“I would never tell,” Bucky agreed. He walked around the bed again until he towered over the President. He put the First Lady’s folders on the bedside table. “Turn to face me,” he breathed.

The President hesitated, but he slowly did so, and Bucky sank to his knees. He didn’t take his eyes off the President’s cock, tall and erect and better than anything his imagination had dreamt up.

Bucky leaned in and blew on the shaft gently, enjoying the way the President shivered even though Bucky hadn’t even touched him yet.

He looked up at the President, purposefully licked his lips, then traced the vein on the underside of the President’s cock from the base to the tip. 

The President moaned softly, his eyes sliding shut. His head fell back briefly, but then he recalled himself and looked down at Bucky.

Bucky teased him again with another lick, then again, unable to resist. After that, he took the tip into his mouth. And then he lost track. He lost track because he was deep-throating the President, feeling the President’s fingers tugging at his hair, because he was listening to the President’s increasingly labored breathing, because he was holding his own growing cock and unzipping himself so he could work himself over while he sucked off the President. He lost track because he was making up for lost time.

But he knew when he finished, only minutes had passed, and the President looked flushed and supple and happy and drained, and Bucky’s cock ached knowing that he was the cause.

The President grinned at him, a hint of shyness there. He tried to speak but was panting too much still and instead beckoned Bucky closer with a finger.

It was only a handjob. But it was a skilled one, given to him by the President in the President’s bed, and when he’d finally fixed his hair and given the First Lady the files and gone home, he remembered the feeling of the President’s firm, warm hand against his cock and felt needy and satisfied all over again.

It was just one time. Bucky would never dare ask for more.

* * *

The second time was at Christmas. Bucky had often thought of sneaking away to meet with the President again, but he was a Secret Service agent and didn’t dare risk it. The President was watched at all times. And besides, it had been a one-time thing.

But then, while the First Lady was busy entertaining children from a local orphanage, the President nodded to him to join him in the hall. Once there, the President said, “I need you to help me with something.”

Hopeful but confused, Bucky followed the President to his private bedroom. He nodded to the Secret Service agent outside the door, but if him following the President around struck the other agent as odd, nothing was said.

The President led him to the bedroom, and Bucky felt his cock hardening despite his resolve.

The President turned to him. “One more time?” he asked. “Just once?”

Bucky grinned and dropped to his knees, happy to potentially get another orgasm out of the man, but then the President dropped to his own knees and gave Bucky a hard, passionate kiss, the President’s hand trying to slip under Bucky’s belt. It was tight enough that Bucky had to help him in the end, but it was worth it. No one had fucked him on the floor before, a deep, passionate rutting that Bucky knew would leave him sore the next day. Bucky wasn’t sure how he got so much of the President’s cock in him, but he welcomed each iota of it, and when he came, he gagged himself with a forearm to mask the sound. And the President kept fucking him, getting yet another orgasm out of him.

Afterward, panting, Bucky tried to set himself to rights and set thoughts of his sore ass aside. It had been worth it.

“Is it okay,” the President gasped, his chest heaving, “if I call you Bucky?”

Bucky grinned. “If I can call you Steve.”

"Bucky it is, then." The- _Steve_ grinned. “So long as no one knows about... this.”

It didn’t sound like this was their last time getting together.

And it wasn’t.


	9. Chapter 9

As far as Sharon could tell, the turning point in whether or not Steve would be an effective president happened when he _became_ president. She went through the files Daisy had gathered looking for what else could have triggered the change, but she found nothing. She couldn’t trace it back to a single word or phrase, couldn’t trace it to a single speech or piece of legislation. Just... as soon as he was inaugurated, all support vanished.

She did, however, find condoms in Steve’s nightstand when her pen ran out of ink and she needed one of his.

* * *

In May, the First Lady had to travel to make commencement speeches. She only gave three, but they were all headaches in their own way. The one in New York would have been fine if not for the First Lady getting invitations to some graduation parties and actually accepting - the reaming Christine gave the First Lady over the phone was nothing compared to what the media said when photos got out. The First Lady merely rolled her eyes. “If this is the fuss they make when I didn’t actually drink anything,” she told Bucky and May, “just imagine how horrified they would have been when I was actually _partying._ ” Bucky just shook his head. May merely pursed her lips.

The second was in Maryland. The First Lady turned down most of the invitations but took plenty of pictures with different students and their relatives, which kept Bucky on his toes and left him stressed, tired, and cranky.

The third was in Virginia, at Culver University, where Betty had graduated. After the commencement address, she stayed an hour to congratulate students face to face and take pictures, then joined Betty and Hope for a quiet meeting with university professors and other scientists.

“I’m sure you’re wondering,” the First Lady began, “why I asked to meet with you, and maybe some of you even suspect. But I’ll be clear - I want to encourage women to go into math and science, but I can’t do it with a clean conscience knowing they’ll be sexually harassed by their bosses. Oh, I’ll encourage them, don’t mistake me on that,” she said with a grin. “But I don’t want them to suffer for something I encouraged them to do. So I need to know to know what you think can be done to help end sexual harassment in the workplace and how best to do it.”

The conversation that followed was long and spirited. There were twenty-seven women professionals in the room, and Bucky was a little discouraged to hear the stories of harassment they’d had to put up with. While sharing their stories seemed easy, coming up with a solution was more difficult. They agreed that there had to be a written policy with clear consequences and a system that allowed anonymous reporting, but after that they disagreed. There were many companies involved with STEM - would they have their own policies or one umbrella policy? Who would be in charge of enforcing it? When sexual harassment was not only rampant but treated like a joke, how would they ensure someone would face consequences, or ensure they themselves would not suffer repercussions for reporting someone? How could they even prove harassment took place with an anonymous report?

The First Lady, Betty, and Hope listened patiently, with the First Lady and Betty sometimes saying something or other to lessen the anger in the room. And yes, it was anger, and it was a kind Bucky had seen before - they’d each been helpless not to be harassed, and they didn’t want to be helpless anymore.

At length, the First Lady stood and thanked them all for coming before explaining she’d have more talks with other groups across the country. She warned them about how slowly things moved in political circles and added another warning that some politicians could refuse to pass legislation out of spite. She had Daisy make sure each woman had the First Lady’s contact information before she left.

Trip had evidently known the talk would run late and had booked a hotel nearby. The First Lady was given the penthouse suite, and Bucky stayed with her and Hope in the suite’s living room as May, Morse, and the local police did a sweep of the floor and Betty went to get them snacks in the small hotel shop.

“I think Steve’s having an affair,” she told Hope.

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward her. Her expression was calm, too calm. She sat on the couch like a statue. She was only that calm and still when things were terribly, terribly wrong.

Hope snorted. “What? Steve? _Steve?_ ”

The First Lady nodded. “I found condoms in the nightstand. I wasn’t _looking_ for them. I was looking for a pen. And then I got to thinking, and- and, I don’t know... He seems distracted sometimes, like he’s not thinking of me, but-”

Hope looked sideways at the First Lady, then scooted a little closer to give her a hug. “Sharon. You’re tired. And you’ve been listening to stories about how horrible men are for months now. He probably just has condoms so he doesn’t make a mess when you’re not around. Like tonight. Who would he even sleep with? Sam? That Rumlow asshole?”

The First Lady was quiet. “Sam is much more to his taste,” she admitted after a minute, her tone faintly joking. “Steve doesn’t go for assholes. Not full-body ones, anyway.”

Hope grinned. “There. See?” One of the local cops beckoned her from the doorway, and Hope stood, bending over to kiss the top of the First Lady’s head. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. And if not, you know I can rough Steve up for you, right?” She pointed at Bucky as she left. “You didn’t hear that, Barnes.”

Bucky held up a hand and ducked his head. Nope. He hadn’t heard anything.

As soon as Hope was gone, the First Lady’s shoulders fell. She stared at the turned-off television. “What do you think?” she asked at last.

Bucky jumped. What did he think? How had she known? He swallowed. “I think the President loves you very much, Ma’am.” Which was true enough.

She turned, smiling softly. “Thanks. I... needed to hear that, I guess. But I was talking about the conference.”

Bucky took a deep breath. Good. So she didn’t know. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” he admitted.

She nodded and tapped a finger against her thigh. “It’s like sending them to charnel houses. They invest in making STEM their futures, and then when they get there, they have bosses who keep them under their thumb and underpaid unless they do what their bosses want, or they can’t get funding for the same projects men get funding for, or they can’t get their papers published because they aren’t seen as authorities on the issue even though male scientists with less experience get published every day.” She sighed and rubbed her temples.

“And now I think you need to go rest,” Bucky prodded.

The First Lady groaned and got to her feet. “Guess I’d better. We’re heading out early, aren’t we?”

He nodded. “Six.”

She cringed. “And I can’t get you to stall them for another five minutes.”

Bucky smirked and pointed to the bedroom. “Bed.”

Her lips twitched faintly. “Even though you probably won’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Morse is going to replace me after she gets some rest.”

She nodded. “Okay. Well. Thanks for looking after me, I guess.” She headed into the bedroom, and he heard the pipes in the bathroom whine as she showered. He didn’t relax until the lights went off under the door.

He was relieved she didn’t suspect him, but he and Steve were going to have a talk about where he hid his condoms from now on, that was for damn sure.

* * *

“They’re easier to get there,” Steve argued, “and the maids don’t go through it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and carried a packet of them to Steve’s chest of drawers. “She said she was looking for pens. She doesn’t have any reason to look for pens in here.” He tucked them into the back corner of the underwear drawer. Someone who was looking for them would find them, but Steve didn’t have a lot of options for hiding things in the bedroom he shared with his wife.

Steve sat on the bed and hung his head. He broke the silence with, “I hate myself when I think of what I’m doing to her.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “I’m not too proud of myself, either.” He swallowed. “We could try... not to. Just call it a fling that no one has to know about.”

Steve hesitated. “Let’s try it,” he said at last, and Bucky tried to ignore the pain in his chest. It was the right move. He knew it was the right move; he’d even suggested it himself.

Steve continued. “We need to try it.”

Bucky nodded and moved closer to kiss his forehead. “One last time, then,” he said, his voice rough.

* * *

It wasn’t the last time. It was never the last time with them. Steve had tried everything. Thinking of Sharon instead. Going to church. He’d made a confession and had been careful to keep things vague enough that anyone who overheard wouldn’t realize what he meant. Maybe God knew he’d tried to deceive him, and this was Steve’s punishment.

But the sin itself was so damn fucking good. Bucky could be rough or soft, stern or cajoling. He listened, he supported, he accepted. Steve had rarely felt so accepted; not just for who he was but accepted, full stop. Bucky, he knew, would accept him no matter what.

And then there was the night in June. Bucky had already been by to ask for the President’s birthday plans, but Sam and Abe had been there then, and it had come to nothing but indecent thoughts.

He let his staff off at as close to five as he could and wished them all a good night before heading up to his bedroom. He’d need a couple minutes alone with his thoughts before dinner. He could chide and deride himself as much as he wanted about it, but the fact still remained that he wasn’t going to change his course.

There was a light knock at the door nearly an hour later, and Bucky entered; he carried a box of manila folders and loose papers.

“Delivery from the First Lady’s office,” he announced.

Steve took the box from him and set it aside so he could stare at the man better.

“She’ll be working late tonight,” Bucky continued. “Wanted you to know not to wait up for her.”

She always worked late. She was better at this job than he was in many ways. She was a better person than he was in many ways.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

Bucky looked him up and down. “So long as I have time to grab something to eat on the way back...”

That was all the invitation Steve needed. He rushed in to crowd Bucky’s space, holding him close and kissing him hard. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmured. “Ever since I couldn’t do this when you asked about my birthday plans this year.” He carefully tugged off Bucky’s jacket and hung it over a chair before working the buttons of his shirt. He let Bucky take care of his holster; Steve had never been fond of guns.

“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” Bucky kicked off his shoes and undid his belt. Before long, he was naked in front of Steve, and he set his hands on his hips. “How do you want me? Sir.”

Steve exhaled slowly. He didn’t know how Bucky had figured it out, but Steve _loved_ when Bucky called him sir. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to think about the reason for it right now. He twisted his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “Last time,” he whispered, even though they both knew by now it was a lie. He pushed Bucky down to his knees, and Bucky went along with it obligingly, setting his hands on Steve’s hips and looking up at him. Steve’s dick hardened just watching Bucky’s pupils grow larger. “Suck me off,” he hissed.

He kept up the sir act until Bucky drew a quiet orgasm from him that made his knees weak, and then Steve tugged off his clothes and tossed them aside. “Fuck me,” he said, and Bucky didn’t waste any time in getting the condom and lube from Steve’s drawer.

Their last time always started slow and soft, tantalizing and needy. The one last, desperate chance to say good-bye before building to a crescendo. They knew the dance.

So when Bucky stopped moving and pulled out, cursing, before Steve could orgasm again, Steve knew something was wrong. He stared at Bucky in hazed confusion as Bucky pulled his clothes on haphazardly. “What?”

Bucky hopped as he tugged on a shoe. “The First Lady.”

And that was when Steve noticed the open bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uhh... If you think you hate me for this chapter, wait until the next one! Maybe. I don't know what you guys want or don't want. I'm just guessing. But I'm guessing that after this, there's just... one or two tough chapters to get through. I semi-promise!


	10. Chapter 10

Steve grabbed his pants and tugged them on, cursing as he half-ran, half-stumbled out the door. He froze as he saw Sharon at the front door, one hand on the doorknob and the other stifling a sob. Her face was already wet with tears.

“Hey,” he said quietly. He crept closer.

She didn’t answer. 

Cautious, he moved toward her. “I know it looks bad-”

Her eyes found him in an instant, then slid back to the front door. She moved away from it as she glared at him. “Do _not._ Do _not_ try to convince me that I didn’t see what I just saw,” she snapped. Despite her anger, her voice was low. Even now, she didn’t want the Secret Service to overhear them. She bumped into the couch, steadied herself against it for a moment, then sat down heavily and hugged her knees. Her hands shook.

He fell into the chair across from the couch and held up his hands in defeat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky stand against the wall. 

Sharon’s eyes followed his to Bucky, then moved back again to Steve. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve bit his lip. He wanted to lie. But they both appreciated honesty too much. If he lied now, he knew he would lose her forever. And despite what he’d done, he didn’t want to lose her. “Too long,” he admitted quietly. “We tried to break it off.”

“How long is ‘too long?'” she choked out, hugging herself tighter.

Steve glanced at Bucky. “Thanksgiving,” he admitted. “When you sent Bucky to pick up those files.”

Her laugh was humorless. “You’re calling him Bucky now?” She buried her face in her hands. “Sorry. Just- in our bed.” Her voice broke. Suddenly, her head lifted, and she hit Bucky with one of the darkest glares Steve had seen her give. “You said he loved me!”

“He does.” Bucky shifted his weight. To most, he seemed implacable, but Steve could see the way his fingers curled automatically as if preparing for a fight. He swallowed. “I can leave.”

“Not looking like that,” she snapped. She took a deep breath; the silence stretched. “You both have to realize.” Her voice had a rough edge; she was angry, trying not to cry. “Steve is a lame duck president. News getting out of him having an affair with another man is _not_ going to help. So, for right now, everything continues as it has been.” Her voice sounded pained, and Steve reached out to hug her before realizing that it would likely only make things worse right now. “Barnes, you report for work tomorrow just like you’re supposed to. Steve-” She froze, then sighed. “I don’t know.” Her face fell, and she covered her features with her hands. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I need time.”

Steve nodded. “Whatever you need,” he murmured.

She glared at him. “If you were interested in what I need,” she said coldly, “you wouldn’t have fucked someone else in the first place.”

Steve swallowed. She had a point. And she also needed room to cool off. He stood to help Bucky get dressed, then stopped. On second thought, that probably wouldn’t help the situation right now, either.

Sharon watched him as if she knew what he was thinking. “I thought about leaving,” she said quietly. “Almost did. But if the Secret Service or anyone else saw me run out of here looking like this, knowing you and he are in here, it would start gossip. So...” She stared at her hands, her lower lip trembling.

“They wouldn’t tell,” Bucky said, adjusting his shirt and jacket in a mirror. “We’re here to keep your secrets.”

“And yet,” Sharon returned, her voice dangerously light, “sometimes the Secret Service goes the extra mile.” She frowned and shook herself. “I mean they write tell-all books.” She paused. “And how you’ve been fucking my husband behind my back.”

Bucky’s hands stilled. Instead of outwardly taking offense, however, he began fixing his hair. He set his comm in place and nodded to Sharon. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Ma’am.”

She didn’t respond as he let himself out, but no small part of Steve was offended on Bucky’s behalf.

“Sharon...”

She held up a finger. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it right now.”

He stared down at her, and she stood and walked to their bedroom, her precise movements disguising her anger. When she came back out, she carried a change of clothes and a blanket. She set them on the table beside the couch.

Steve frowned. “I’m the one who-” Cheated on her. He had somehow never admitted that to himself before. “I should be sleeping on the couch, Sharon.”

“The bed still smells like the two of you,” she said, speaking softly like she did when she was trying not to cry. When she looked at him, her eyes were red. “Was I not enough, Steve? Did- Did I do something wrong?”

God damn it. “Nothing,” he told her. “It just... happened.”

“For _months._ ” She sat on the couch. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She looked at him, her eyes watering again.

His shoulders fell, and he scratched the back of his neck. Right. That probably implied he’d cheated on her for no reason. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He leaned over to kiss her head but stopped when she flinched away. Right. “Good night, Sharon. I really do love you.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared emptily at the coffee table, and he waited for a moment before returning to their room and crawling into his side of the bed.

He’d spent the night alone when she’d traveled, but the bed had never felt so lonely before.

* * *

Bucky forced himself to eat breakfast the next day. It was tasteless, heavy on his tongue. He kept his eyes peeled on the news, but there was no mention of Steve having an affair, not even a mention of a rumor.

That didn’t mean he was out of the clear, he thought as he washed his dishes. The First Lady could still have him fired as soon as he got in to work. Given what he knew of her character, he didn’t think she would, but he and Steve had hurt her. Bucky was nothing to her, just a replaceable agent. She could get him out of the way easily.

But when she walked into her office that day, other than looking tired, she seemed like her usual self. She nodded at everyone, her smile not reaching her eyes. She took a seat at her desk. “Trip? What’s on the schedule today?”

He rattled off the list while she nodded, and Bucky’s heart fell. He should have made himself eat more, he thought. She had a full day and then some.

She waited until Trip was done. “Reschedule the environmental meeting, get in touch with Director Fury’s office, and tell him I want a private meeting at his earliest convenience, so long as it’s today.”

All noise stopped in the room; everyone turned to the First Lady.

“You’re sure?” Trip asked. “That might take some work.”

The First Lady nodded. “I’ll meet with the environmental group outside of office hours, if they’d rather do that, but I want my schedule clear today.”

Trip looked at Daisy. “Uh... Okay.”

Hope lifted her hand. “You going to tell us what’s going on?”

The First Lady smiled. “Nothing important. I just got too little sleep to concentrate on anything. And it’s been too long since I saw Nick.”

No one looked like they believed that. If Bucky didn’t know why she hadn’t slept the night before, he wouldn’t have believed it, either. 

She clapped her hands. “So. Everybody but Daisy and Trip are dismissed from class. And they’re free to go as soon as they clear my schedule for Nick.”

Within half an hour, the room was empty save for Bucky, May, and Morse.

“Ma’am?” May asked. “If something’s bothering you...”

The First Lady looked at May, her eyes momentarily resting on Bucky. “It’s fine. I’m just tired. I get to ask you guys to step out when Nick comes, right?”

May nodded grimly, though Bucky could tell May wanted to know what the First Lady was up to. “We’ll be right outside the door.”

“Good.” She paused. “And if I ask you to before then?”

“We’ll be right outside the door,” May repeated.

The First Lady nodded. “Then I’d like some privacy, please.”

May nodded and led the way to the door, letting the others pass through first before closing it behind them. “What the hell was that about?” she asked them, not expecting an answer.

Bucky shrugged and looked around for a place to stand.

* * *

Sharon tried to concentrate on work - _any_ work - to no avail. All she could think of whenever her mind wandered was Barnes fucking her husband in her and Steve’s bed, the blissful, intense expressions on both their faces.

She rubbed her eyes. What was it? Was Barnes attracted to power? It wasn’t as if no one had tried to seduce a politician before. Plenty of presidents had mistresses, sometimes multiple mistresses at once. She was sure several of them had even had... what was she supposed to call him? A mister? A misterer? A male mistress?

God. And why had Steve done it? Had she not been there enough? She thought she’d been... not perfect, sure, but no one could be perfect. But she’d been damn close. She’d been loyal and supportive, she’d played the submissive political wife even as she tried to get her own political future going. One of the reasons she’d wanted Hope and Betty in her Cabinet was because she’d never see two of her best friends otherwise. Sharon had given up so much to be a senator, and she’d given up all of that so Steve could be President.

But she couldn’t blame him for that. She’d known what she was getting into, and she had agreed to it. She just didn’t realize that Steve, that _Steve_ of all people, would cheat on her.

And what was going to happen to her now? Would she be squeezed out of her own marriage? She didn’t even know what she’d done wrong, didn’t know how to fix it. Steve had told her she hadn’t done anything, but that was actually worse. It meant that he just... didn’t love her enough anymore. Maybe he had never loved her enough.

She’d spent over half the night crying into a pillow and feeling sorry for herself. Right now, she could happily crawl back into b- the couch and continue.

Nick finally arrived, smiling warmly and bearing pizza and beer. He looked a little older than when she’d last seen him, but his good eye still glinted like he knew things no one else did, and his voice still resounded with vivacity and sarcasm. “Sounds like you have stuff going on,” he told her as he closed the door behind her. She caught a glimpse of May’s disapproving face. Fortunately, she didn’t see Barnes.

He held up the pizza and beer. “Lunch meeting?”

Sharon’s smile trembled. “Sounds great.” She jumped up and hurried around the desk to hug him like she had when she’d been a girl. In a lot of ways, Nick was the closest thing to family she had left. Steve had found a father figure in Abe, and she had found a weird sort of uncle in Nick. It was one of the perks of being in a spy family. She squeezed him tighter and stepped back. “You’ve put on some weight. Which means that most of that pizza had better be for me.”

“I paid for it myself,” Nick retorted. “Which means if you get the majority of either the pizza or the beer, I’m sending you a receipt.” He looked at her in what passed for his version of concern - his eyebrows lowering slightly, and his lips tilting faintly downwards at the corners. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Sharon cleared her throat and led him to the couch. She let him arrange the pizza box and beer while she retrieved Daisy’s research from her desk. “I want your opinion on something. As a highly intelligent friend.” She set the folders on the table. “Even lame duck presidents do more than Steve’s been doing, and I’ve been feeling blue-balled with everything I’ve tried to do, too.”

Nick leaned forward and studied the folders. “Not sure the First Lady should use that language.”

“What are you going to do, sue me?”

Nick grinned, his eye still surveying pages. “It _is_ the American tradition.”

Sharon ate in silence while he read some more; at length, he closed the file. “I think something’s going on,” she said, “but I don’t know what. At first, I thought it was a party thing, but people from our own party-” _our own party._ Like she and Steve were still- No. She couldn’t think about that now. “- were undermining us. I can’t trace it back to anything we might have said or done, haven’t heard any news... Even the biased media outlets aren’t saying anything.”

He chewed on a slice of pizza as he read some more. “And you canceled your entire day to tell me this?”

She shrugged. “I probably should have asked you for help sooner, but I thought I could figure it out on my own.”

“And you realized you couldn’t... why?”

Her pizza suddenly felt heavy in her stomach. “I’ve been missing pretty obvious things lately.”

Nick set the folders aside. “Okay. Out with it.”

She looked at him closely. This was the man who had taken her to the gun range when Peggy couldn’t, who had offered to write her a recommendation to the CIA if she decided to pursue it. He’d lent her inappropriate books about spycraft from the time she was a child and had helped her in high school by debating different sides of the issue. She’d half-hoped her father would bail on her wedding so Nick would walk her down the aisle instead. He’d always been supportive in ways her family wasn’t. He’d never let her down, either.

“Steve’s having an affair.”

He laughed, even slapping his knee, and then stopped when she shot him a look. “What makes you think that?” he asked.

“I found him in bed with one of my Secret Service agents last night.”

All trace of mirth disappeared from his face. He glanced at the door. “You want anybody... you know.”

Shot or maimed. She felt like crying all over again. She knew well Nick could do it, make Barnes disappear forever, remove him from the board. He’d do it for her if she wanted him to, and he’d do it because he cared about her that much. Damn it, she’d been lucky to meet Nick. Luckier still that he liked her. She shook her head. “No, I still love the fucker. Steve, I mean, not the agent. I just... I mean, I won’t lie. It hurts. And I don’t know what I did wrong. But I still love him.” She frowned and grabbed another slice of pizza. “Hate the sight of his face right now. But. Still love him.” Hated him right now. But loved him in the long term.

“Which agent?”

“Oh, he’s easy to pick out.”

“The _guy._ ”

Sharon nodded morosely, then hesitantly looked at him. “What happens to me when word gets out, Nick?” Because it would get out. No one would be able to keep their mouths shut about the President’s illicit affair with a man forever.

He made a face. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but you fucked up your chances of being a spy when you became First Lady.”

“Maybe I can pretend to defect to Russia and seduce Putin,” she teased. It came out flat.

Nick shook his head. “No wonder you look like hell.”

“You’re just saying that because you look so old.”

He grinned at her, and she grinned back.

After several seconds, he straightened and intertwined his fingers. “Have they stopped?”

“They say they’ve tried.”

“And if you switch the agent to another detail...”

Sharon shrugged. “Will Steve hate me if I do that? And even if he doesn’t, people will want to know why. All the talk here is always about politics or gossip - and you’ve been around long enough to know - gossip is more interesting to most people.”

Nick was quiet for several seconds. “So you can’t rely on them stopping. You know better than to do anything unusual that people might notice.” Sharon nodded. As hard as it had been to remember the night before, she’d done it. Nick studied her cautiously. “Some queens and first ladies have allowed the mistresses.”

Sharon stared at him, her heart breaking. Was he saying that the only way to keep Steve was to give him up for good?

Nick looked at her apologetically. “It’s a shit situation,” he admitted. “I suggest you talk to Steve before you decide to do anything. You know the rules. Get as much intel as you can before you make a decision.”

Sharon bit her lip. It wasn’t the most encouraging. Still, she felt marginally better than before, and Nick had helped to strengthen her resolve.

“I can at least punch him,” Nick said after a minute. “I have ways.”

She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but the offer warmed her cold, deadened heart nonetheless.


	11. Chapter 11

After Nick took the folders away and promised to go over them, Sharon returned to the Presidential Bedchamber. Thankfully, the term, like Camp David, was something of a misnomer; it was more like a small suite or apartment, with a living room for visitors and an attached bedroom. She didn’t feel much like going into the bedroom today.

She couldn’t resist opening the door to the First Lady’s bedroom on the other side and having a look around. It was much like the Presidential Bedchamber, if smaller and in softer colors. Still, the maids cleaned every day, and if she wanted to move in tonight, she could. People might talk, but she could say she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to disturb Steve. She’d have to talk with a doctor, but she thought she could come up with something plausible.

For now, she’d settle for a nap. Crawling onto the bed, she set her head on the pillow.

It was useless. She tossed and turned, and by the time the outer door opened, she felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

“-family, Rumlow. I don’t think they’ve seen each other since we took office. Probably just missed him.” He caught sight of Sharon in the doorway to the First Lady’s suite and stopped short.

She looked from him to Rumlow and back again. Rumlow’s eyes glanced to the door behind her. “I wasn’t aware it made the news around here.”

Rumlow shrugged. “Everything makes the news around here, ma’am. But the Director of the CIA stopping by to see you, and at the last minute. It got people talking.”

Sharon sighed. “He stopped by as a friend. He brought pizza and beer. He’s the closest thing to family that I’ve got and I wanted to see him. Especially when I realized how long it had been. Will that satisfy curious minds?”

“Don’t know if it’ll satisfy ‘em, ma’am, but I can pass it along, if you want.”

Sharon nodded and settled her gaze on Steve.

“Uh... Rumlow? Give us the room, would you?”

Rumlow glanced between them again, and Sharon’s cheeks began to burn. She knew that look. He’d tell someone she and Steve had a fight.

Well. It wouldn’t get any further than a fight, not if she had any say in it. When she and Steve were alone, she cleared her throat. “We need to talk.”

He flinched, nodded, and waited for her to sit before doing so himself.

She threaded her fingers together. She should have thought more about what she was going to say, but now that she was here, with him, she couldn’t think of a way to begin. She took a breath. “I told Nick. I trust him not to spread it around.” Her lips quirked. “He offered to punch you, but I don’t think I’ll take him up on it.” Or had offered to punch Barnes. And kill Barnes. But... details.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured, not insincerely.

“He mentioned that... not that things like this happen, but that people... live with it, I think. Basically.” She bit her bottom lip, not looking at him, “And if this is the only way to keep you, I want to- Well, if I’m being honest, I _don’t_ want to try. But I want to- You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. No one else even comes close, they never did. And I want you to be happy. And if the only way to make you happy is to let someone else into our be-” Her voice caught before she could finish the word. “Our... relationship... Our- our whatever we have now...”

His hand covered hers, and she forced herself to look up at him. His eyes weren’t as close to spilling over as hers. “It isn’t your fault, Sharon. I’ve been thinking about it. I haven’t really been able to think of anything else.” His lips twisted wryly. “I think I might have ordered an attack on Laos. Or set up a trading post there. Something. But that isn’t your fault. _This_ isn’t your fault. Something’s... wrong with me, I think. I don’t know what. But you’re right to be hurt. I hurt you. And that’s on me, not you.”

She bit her lip until it hurt, but it didn’t do any good. The tears spilled over. She pretended that she wasn’t crying.

Steve gently wiped a tear away with his thumb.

“I’m just tired,” she whispered.

“I didn’t sleep much, either.” He looked up at her nervously. “The maids changed our sheets...”

She glared at him, her face going hot. “I am _not_ having sex with you right now, Steven Grant Rogers. So help me, I’ll call Nick. He’ll punch you so hard in the head you’ll think you’re a lobbyist!”

“No, I-” He shook his head quickly. “I didn’t mean sex. I meant- I just meant sleeping.”

Her breath caught. Right. Just sleeping was a thing. After a moment, she softened and eyed the doorway to the First Lady’s suite. “I _do_ need to sleep,” she admitted.

Steve stood and offered her a hand. He froze, and his hand hovered as if he were unsure what to do with it. “If you’d rather I didn’t...”

Sharon looked at the hand and slowly held it in her own. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to pretend we’re still good a little longer.”

Steve flinched but helped her up nonetheless. “Whatever you want,” he said, and to his credit, he sounded honest.

Just as he had when he’d said he loved her, just as he had when they’d exchanged their vows.

* * *

Steve woke to a knock on the bedroom door, and he blinked at the clock on the bedside. It was too late for Bucky to come by. Sharon stirred in his arms, and he craned his neck to look at their visitor.

Barton stood in the doorway, looking more awkward than Steve had ever seen. “Dinner’s about ready, sir.”

Steve sat up, careful not to disturb Sharon. Not that he thought he would wake her; she could sleep like the dead. But he’d done enough to upset her lately. “Who are the guests?”

“Nobody. Senator Pierce called and said his daughter was sick. Said something about rescheduling.” Barton shrugged. “More of a Wilson question.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll talk to Wilson about sending a card, then. Can we eat up here, maybe? Just burgers, I think.”

Barton scowled. “That’s a Wilson question, sir.”

Sighing, Steve got to his feet. He tossed a blanket lightly over Sharon before going into the other room. Barton shook his head at him and went to stand outside.

A call to Sam led to a call downstairs, and within half an hour there were place settings on a table on the southern portico overlooking the gardens. The night was warm enough, and he didn’t think Sharon would mind eating dinner overlooking the southern lawn. The fountain was brightly lit, and the security lights in the garden added a surreal, if not romantic touch. He gently woke Sharon. “We slept through dinner,” he murmured. “I asked them to send up burgers.”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes with a yawn. “I could go for burgers,” she admitted.

He grinned. He knew full well they were her favorite. “I set up a table on the portico. Pierce canceled dinner, so it’s just us.”

She eyed him suspiciously, then looked away. “You’re not in trouble, Steve. I mean, you are. I’m still upset. And I’m probably going to be for a while.”

Steve swallowed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the right to be upset with him; he had hurt her. He had broken his vows to her.

She continued, speaking haltingly. “But you don’t have to bribe me with my favorite food and private dinners. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

He pressed his lips together. “I want to do this,” he said softly. “I want to try and make you feel better.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she got up to brush her teeth. He moved around as well, mostly trying to keep busy as the silence stretched on.

He turned on the news, frowning at the misrepresentation of his sending more soldiers to the Middle East, his brow furrowing as they criticized his domestic policy to give more autonomy to the postal office. There was talk of redesigning the one dollar bill, and even though that was the US Department of the Treasury’s business, Steve watched as they lambasted him for the new design.

Sharon came in as they played an SNL clip where the actor done up to look like Steve kept claiming he didn’t know what he was doing. She reached over him and took the remote. She turned off the TV and set the remote out of his reach. “They do that with every president,” she reminded him.

“I know. Still sucks.”

She curled up beside him. “Would seeing Barnes tomorrow help?”

He looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged.

“I won’t be able to talk to him alone. I figured... I could send him to pick something up, and you could explain things to him. If you get him a copy of your schedule, maybe I can arrange to forget things here more often.” She looked away. “I don’t think it’s smart for you two to... do whatever... for more than twenty minutes at a time. It’s harder to explain to anyone who might notice something amiss. And we can’t set a pattern. I was thinking, if you... feel the need. Or whatever. Just tell me in the morning. And tell me when you’ll be here. And I’ll-” She swallowed, and he reached out to cup her cheek.

“I know you might not believe me right now,” he murmured, “but I really do love you.”

“Yeah, well.” The hurt in her eyes faded as she forced a smile. “The things I’ll do for a burger.”

* * *

“Took a day off yesterday and now you’re forgetting folders at home,” Hope tsked. “Bad sign, you know.”

“Good thing I work at home, then,” the First Lady said. She looked at Bucky, then at May. “May? Would you mind sending Barnes? He’s already got experience finding the place, and I wanted to talk to the others about what the STEM forums turned up.”

May sighed and nodded to Bucky, who was careful only to nod at the First Lady and keep his features impassive.

His steps were quicker as he neared the Presidential Bedchamber. He didn’t know what the First Lady had up her sleeve, but he had his suspicions. She certainly hadn’t singled him out just to pick up folders that could be brought to her by anyone.

He nodded to Barton on his way in and tried to ignore the humming in his veins. Barton meant Steve was inside, but that could mean anything. Steve could want to break up. This could be a talk or another good-bye meeting. Why couldn’t the First Lady be an easier read?

Though judging by the way Steve grabbed him, kissed him, and pressed him against the wall as soon as Bucky got in, breaking up wasn’t in the plans. This wasn’t a good-bye kiss.

Steve explained the new arrangement as he carefully unbuttoned Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky blinked up at him, flabbergasted.

“She’s letting me see you?”

Steve nodded. “Said she wants me to be happy. I owe her. I really owe her.”

Bucky swallowed. “And she’s right. We don’t have long.” He checked the time. “Do you want to fuck me or me to fuck you?”

Steve held up a finger. “Make love,” he corrected, and Bucky tried to ignore the way that made him feel. His hardening cock, however, betrayed him, and Steve dropped to his knees and unzipped his pants. “I’m sorry we can’t do more.”

“Me, too.” Bucky groaned as the Steve wrapped his lips around Bucky’s cock. “But I’ll take what I can get."


	12. Chapter 12

The arrangement had snags. Every arrangement did, Sharon supposed, but this arrangement meant political suicide if it was noticed by the wrong people. There were times when Bucky went to their bedroom but Steve hadn’t been able to get out of a meeting, or times when May sent Morse or Daisy instead, despite anything Sharon said; when May decided to send someone else, Sharon always had to watch how much she argued, too.

Still, Barnes never complained, and neither did Steve. She supposed it could have been worse, that if Steve were going to have someone on the side, Barnes wasn’t the worst candidate. He certainly knew how to keep his mouth shut, and he was so good at hiding his thoughts when he wanted to that not even she could read him half the time.

There were little things they did, too. Steve assured her that he and Barnes weren’t doing anything in the bed. He started getting her flowers from the White House gardens, anything in season, and would sometimes send them back with Barnes after she’d sent Barnes to pick something up. Barnes fumbled a thank you when they were alone together before she gave a speech on civil rights, and argued on her behalf with May to let Sharon sleep in a little and go on morning jogs after sunrise.

He lost that argument, of course. But it was a nice thought.

She started getting a read on when Steve might need Barnes’ company. At first, it was often enough that she had to sit him down and explain the need for subterfuge, but evidently Barnes agreed with her on that front, and Steve only asked her to send him by when he expected particularly rough days. The media started talking about Steve getting headaches and what that might mean, but she didn’t mind so long as he was happy, and he was always happier after he’d seen Barnes.

She wondered if she had ever made him happy like that. Sometimes, she thought she had, that they had been married for so long that she had simply ceased to notice if he felt happier around her or not.

It was hard to think he didn’t actually love her, though. He might do more for her after their fight, but he still looked at her like she was precious to him. Not like she’d hung the moon and stars, perhaps - neither of them had ever been romantic saps like that (though Steve was the more romantic one, certainly; he still called her his sun sometimes). But he definitely looked at her like he was happy she was there.

And then she had to wonder if, maybe, she had fallen out of love with him. That wasn’t it, though. She’d loved him more than anyone else in her life since soon after they’d started dating, and that was still true. The thought of living without him was an ache in her chest that haunted her nightmares.

Maybe she’d driven him away by working insanely long hours. But no, when they’d been Senator Carter and Governor Rogers, they’d worked independently more often than not. She’d just thought... Well. She’d have to put more work into their marriage, she supposed.

Except the weird thing was that it didn’t seem like her marriage was falling apart. She didn’t love him any less, and he didn’t seem to love her any less, either. If it weren’t for how he seemed to have similar feelings for Barnes, she wouldn’t even doubt the state of their marriage.

The arrangement, such as it was, was easy enough.

And then the news broke the story in September.

* * *

Having a wife and a lover wasn’t an easy task, but Steve would rather face that problem than another crisis in Colombia. And not just because that meant Fury would attend the briefing - he had asked to have a private word with the President after the briefing. Steve had caught some of the stink-eye from the man across the room, and he had a feeling he knew what the talk would be about.

Sure enough, Fury’s words as soon as they were alone were, “So you’ve been cheating on Sharon.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. As much as those words made him want to drag himself to the nearest church and beg someone to flog him, he knew that wasn’t an option. And not just because anyone who tried to flog the President would likely be shot. Fury might appreciate the gesture, but he’d also point out that it didn’t fix anything. “I did. We talked about it. We’ve made an... arrangement.” He looked cautiously at Fury; he’d never been as close to the man as Sharon was. 

Fury nodded and dropped a bunch of folders on his desk. “She asked me to go through those. Caused a stir when she changed her plans and invited me here. I don’t think it’s smart to cause a stir like that again. So you give her these tonight. I assume you two still live together?”

Sharon was still hesitant about letting him touch her when she was awake, Steve thought. She’d only found out about Bucky recently. Sometimes, though, he thought she was letting him in again. Slowly, but there were signs that she was starting to trust him again. And they were still sleeping in the same bed. That meant something, even if she only cuddled up to him when she was asleep.

He nodded. “Bucky and I are trying to make arrangements that won’t inconvenience her.”

Fury peered at him coldly. “But you’re not breaking it off.”

It was a statement, almost an accusation. Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I tried. It doesn’t help.”

Fury scowled. “You’re inviting me to your birthday party at Camp David. Tell Wilson I’m bunking with him or Abe if neither of them move out to one of the cabins. This Bucky still staying in the cabin with you?”

Steve had long ago mastered the urge to play with his hands when he was intimidated. Instead, he held one of his pens and did nothing more. “I assume so. The Secret Service handles that.”

“I’ll talk to Coulson, then. He’s an old friend.” Seeing Steve’s eyes widen, Fury lifted a hand. “I won’t tell him why. Just that I want to stay there and check out security on my own. May’s one of the best agents he has, Morse is another. They’ll be put on perimeter, because it’s more impressive to monitor that shit. Your boyfriend will stay with you two. He’s one of the best, sure, but his skill is more long-range.”

Steve relaxed into his chair. “Okay,” he said. It wasn’t as if he could say anything else. After a moment, he said, “You know, when I asked Sharon’s dad if I could marry her, he wasn’t half as scary as you.”

Fury smiled and headed for the door. “Good.”

* * *

Back at Camp David, he found that he’d once again been put into the bedroom that connected to the President’s and First Lady’s. Unlike last time, however, he was able to stay with them in their bedroom instead of hanging out with them in the living room. Like last year, the President had a meeting that ran late, and the First Lady went on ahead. Like the year before, he carried her luggage to their bedroom. _Un_ like last year, May did a thorough search of the First Lady’s luggage before she went to survey the perimeter, taking twelve sparklers with her.

The First Lady pulled a pack of sparklers from her tall boots and grinned at Bucky. “The ones she found don’t even work.”

Bucky sighed. He respected the First Lady; he really did. She was driven, hard-working, considerate, and not many women would allow her husband’s... whatever he was... to continue working for her. But there were some ways in which she could be childish. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to turn those over to me?”

She clutched them to her chest protectively. “What harm can they even do?”

“They can burn you, for one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right, right. I’m going to take that risk, mature adult that I am.” Her expression changed faintly as she looked at him. “Is it working? You two?”

Bucky took a breath and looked around. With May gone, they had the cabin to themselves. “I like to think so,” he said. “Is it working for you?”

She took a breath, too. “I like to think so,” she echoed. “I was wondering... I know we’ve got connected bedrooms right now. Do you... You and Steve can do more. But can I spend time with him one night?”

He frowned at her, his shoulders falling. “Far as I’m concerned? I don’t have the right to ask anything.” His voice was firm. “He married you. You married him. I’m an interloper.”

“You make him happy,” she said quietly.

“I betrayed you,” he spat out. “I was supposed to protect you, and I didn’t. I was a selfish prick, and I couldn’t stop. I never got the chance to apologize properly, but you should know. Steve told me not to expect anything, and I didn’t. I just-” He swallowed thickly. He’d given in anyway. He hadn’t been strong enough, and he’d hurt the person he’d sworn to protect.

Her grin was lopsided. “He’s hard to resist.”

“Yeah.” He managed a faint grin of his own.

The First Lady looked around the room. “I can stay in the other room tonight?”

He shook his head. “Actually, you know what I really want to do?”

She fixed her eyes on him, and he grinned at the suspicion there.

“Talk,” he said.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Talk.”

He nodded and shrugged. “I never get to talk to the two of you as just us.”

“Huh.” She grinned softly. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

And it turned out he didn’t get to talk with them that night, either. Both the First Lady and Steve were yawning so much that he sent them to bed, and they fell asleep almost immediately. Bucky just sighed and covered them with blankets before going to his own room. The next night, they stayed up with the others, talking, and Bucky fought not to overshare. He’d noticed the CIA Director studying him ever since the man had arrived shortly after he and the First Lady. Director Fury never _seemed_ to study him, of course, but he could still tell. Once he knew Director Fury was studying him, it wasn’t hard to guess why. The First Lady had told Director Fury about him, and the man was checking him out. As an ally or enemy, Bucky wasn’t sure. Maybe that was what Director Fury was trying to establish himself.

After, Steve and the First Lady were both yawning as they got ready for bed, the First Lady in the bathroom with the door half-open, and Steve changing into his pajamas in the middle of the bedroom. Bucky watched in appreciation but didn’t make a move for him. Steve and the First Lady both needed what little rest they could get while they were here.

The First Lady leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “You know, at some point, we’re going to have to decide what’s going to happen.”

They both looked at her curiously, and she grimaced.

“I don’t mean to bring everybody down, but Steve isn’t going to be the President forever, and he’ll be followed by the Secret Service for the rest of his life. I’m just saying that if you two want to do this long-term, we’re going to have to work something out.”

Which was true, Bucky thought to himself as he lay alone in the other bedroom. This relationship with Steve was ultimately doomed. Steve and the First Lady would leave the White House, Bucky would be reassigned... Maybe, if he was lucky, he could be assigned to one of their protective details, but even then, the other agents would be too close. They’d be sure to notice something, no matter how careful the three of them were.

Could he really risk ruining Steve’s reputation over a relationship that could never be anything more than it currently was?

* * *

A massive tornado hit the Midwest in August. Steve took a trip out to tour the damage, give a speech, and help where he could. He felt he was ultimately there for a photo op, but he tried to do what he could nonetheless.

By the time he got home again, he didn’t have to ask Sharon to see Bucky. Sam gave Steve most of the day off to rest and regain his resolve, and Sharon had a particularly forgetful day that day.

Steve couldn’t wait to see Sharon at the end of the day, either; after the tour of hospitals he’d gone on, after seeing the razed houses, he needed all the human contact he could get. Fortunately, he and Sharon were better now, and she let him hold her as much as he wanted.

Despite how he never felt like he accomplished anything, despite how the news tore him apart, he was grateful for the life he had. Two people inexplicably loved him. He would never take that for granted, no matter what happened next.

The month ambled on. He was having difficulty getting internet to all the schools in the nation, the first step of his five-year plan, and while he tried to find a fix for it, he gave students a speech wishing them well and encouraging them to do their best in the new school year.

He toured a power plant that promised to decrease waste and lower costs for homeowners, visited with scientists who had made strides with solar panels, worked more on getting legislators to work with him on any bill he could find. He crafted a resolution to honor an ailing WWII vet, but even that stalled in Congress. Steve was forced to withdraw the resolution after the man died, instead writing a letter to the man’s family.

And then Sam’s phone beeped during a meeting. Steve glanced at him, since they had all agreed that they would only allow emergency calls during meetings, but Sam’s eyes were on the text. _Texts,_ according to the beeps. Steve frowned, and just as he started to wonder if anything was wrong, Sam lifted his head. “Okay. I’m going to call this meeting to a close, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll call later about rescheduling.”

Steve didn’t say anything as everyone but Abe, Rumlow, and Barton were shown out.

Sam glanced at Steve, then pulled up a livestream on his laptop of one of the news stations.

“-having an illicit affair with a Secret Service agent.” Steve’s blood ran cold. “Several anonymous sources confirm the relationship. Jack, do you think the First Lady knows about the affair?”

“She does now, Diane. And what’s more, the Secret Service agent is a _man._ Not only is the President cheating on his wife, but he’s _gay._ On top of that, he can’t get anything through Congress. He couldn’t get Congress to agree that oxygen exists! So now we have this immoral waste of a president who’s more interested in gay affairs than in serving the American people, and the question is, what are we going to do with him?”

“Will he be impeached?”

“Hard to see how someone won’t try it - there are moral grounds. They tried to impeach Clinton, remember?”

“Clinton survived that by lying, didn’t he? He did not have sexual relations with that woman. Do you think President Rogers will lie to protect himself?”

“Diane, from the sound of it, I think the only thing the President’s capable of doing is the Secret Service agent.”

Sam ran a hand over his face. “Steve. Tell me this isn’t true.”

Steve stared at him, slack-jawed.

“Steven,” Abe murmured. “You didn’t cheat on Sharon.” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe such a thing was possible.

And Steve couldn’t lie to him, never to Abe. “Not that simple,” Steve murmured.

Sam raised both of his eyebrows. “You’d better come up with a way to make it simp-” The desk phone rang, and Sam groaned at he stood to get it. “Hell- What? No, I don’t- That’s not a- Sharon, I know you’re ang-” A second later, Sam groaned again. “Sharon wants to handle it. Said if I don’t start calling reporters in five minutes, she will.”

Steve swallowed.

“Think you can find your voice enough to call her and tell her to hold off? We can get ahead of this, Steve. Whatever you did, we’ll find a way to-”

Steve shook his head. They had no idea what Sharon had given up for him. They meant well, but they had no idea. “No. You know what? No. I had an affair. I’m _having_ an affair.” He bit his lip and looked at Abe. “I didn’t mean to. I know that doesn’t matter much, and that I’ve disappointed you, but it’s true. Sharon’s known for months.”

“ _Months,_ ” Abe repeated.

Steve nodded, shame-faced but firm. “And I trust her. Plus, they’re right. I’m not getting anything through Congress right now anyway. Whatever we’re doing now isn’t working. But Bucky and Sharon are good things in my life, and I’m not going to give them up.”

“ _Stephen._ ” Abe’s face was incredulous. “This selfishness is not like you.”

Steve set his elbows on his knees. “I know. And maybe something’s wrong with me. But we knew people would find out eventually, and we didn’t stop. We couldn’t. So I’ll take my knocks.” He nodded at Sam. “Get her the press, Sam.”

Sam scowled. “You better write me a damn good recommendation before we can’t access the White House stationary anymore,” he muttered, punching in a number on the phone.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky’s head lifted as the station cut in to say they had breaking news. With the way the First Lady left the news on all day, he now knew that that could be anything, from a school shooting to an earthquake in some foreign part of the world. It was never for anything good; good things didn’t get the cable news networks ratings. They stuck in just enough good things not to overwhelm people with how horrible all their other stories were.

“We’ve received news that the President is having an illicit affair with one of the First Lady’s Secret Service agents.”

May and Morse stared at each other, but he stared straight at the First Lady as the blood drained from her face. He wasn’t feeling all that great himself.

“Oh, my God,” Hope murmured.

“Oh, my God,” Daisy chimed in.

They all looked to the First Lady, but her eyes were set on the television as the anchors continued talking about what impact this would have on the President’s term. On _Steve’s_ term. Bucky tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He’d known someone would find out about the affair; they’d all known. It was why they’d been so careful. And yet, they had continued. Steve and Bucky had continued because they couldn’t stop, and now Steve might be impeached. Because of Bucky.

He almost wished the First Lady had gotten him transferred to California. Anywhere on the West Coast where he couldn’t go near Steve. Maybe abroad.

Slowly, the anchors filled in more details. A male Secret Service agent - and now May and Morse stared squarely at him - possible recordings of illicit rendezvous. It was unknown how long the affair had been going on.

The First Lady slowly got to her feet. “Trip. Call Sam and tell them _I_ want to speak to the press.”

“Uh... I don’t think that’s a good id-” The First Lady glared at him, and Trip pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay. I’ve been thinking about retiring a couple years early anyway...”

“Tell him if the press aren’t in the briefing room in five minutes, I’ll start calling them myself.”

“Okay,” Trip said slowly. “But do you really think this is a good idea?”

“I think I’m doing the opposite of what they want me to do, and that’s good enough,” she snapped. “Daisy? Let’s go.” The First Lady stormed out, followed by the rest of her Cabinet. The phone on the desk was already ringing nonstop as Morse hurried to follow.

Bucky turned to do so himself, but May put his arm in a vise. “No. You aren’t coming. You’re going to Coulson’s office and quitting.”

He looked at her for a moment, dumbfounded, then nodded. He could either quit or get fired, and quitting was the honorable thing to do. For the first time, he was seeing this not only as a betrayal to the First Lady, but the way May and Morse must see it - as a betrayal of the Secret Service, too. 

May left, and he was left alone in the First Lady’s office. Silently, he closed the door behind him. He nodded to the secretaries, who stared at him as they fielded phone calls, and then went straight to Coulson’s office. He was shown in immediately, but as Coulson gathered himself to speak, Bucky set his gun and badge on the desk and walked out without a word.

* * *

Sharon tapped the podium as she waited. She tended to avoid this room. She tended to avoid cameras when she could, really. She’d certainly never given a speech in this room before; such things were best left to press secretaries and her husband. And despite the amusing thought of what Christine was doing right now - probably freaking out - Sharon half-wished Christine were here to talk instead. But no. Christine would play by the rules, and they couldn’t afford to keep doing that.

“Is everyone here?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and she smirked. “Is everyone just saying that so another news agency won’t get a scoop?”

Only a couple people chuckled, and she took a breath. Okay. Tough room. Good to know. She’d dealt with tough rooms before, though. Never with so many cameras.

She’d manage.

“How many of you have heard that my husband is having an affair?” Every hand in the room went up, and she nodded. “Fewer than I thought, then.” A couple more chuckles. Take that, Jimmy Kimmel.

“First, I’m going to confirm that he has, in fact, been having an affair. And yes, with a man. And yes, I’ve known about it. I even helped arrange some of those illicit meetings they’re talking about on the news because I love my husband and want him to be happy.”

Hands shot up around the room, but she ignored them.

“Second, I’m going to confirm that the man is question is on my Secret Service detail, and I’m tremendously glad for the work he does. He is a credit to the Secret Service. Watchful, intelligent, and all of the things a Secret Service agent ought to be.” She paused. “Except clothed all the time. But like I said, I was good with that.

“Third. I am not a hapless, swooning victim. Any news anchor who wants to treat me as such can come to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC, and fight me on that. They can also look at my record as a Senator for Virginia. I’m not some befuddled woman who’s blind to what’s going on around her. My husband didn’t play me, he didn’t get one over on me, and I’m not so in love with him that I’m utterly brainless as a result. I knew what I was doing, and I would do it again.”

She leaned into the podium and grinned. “Now. Let’s take some questions and then get to the good stuff. I’ll take seven. Choose them well. And no, I won’t answer any questions about the Secret Service agent, because he’s a good man who deserves respect.” And privacy, damn it. Barnes hadn’t signed up for a life in the tabloids and as the butt of jokes on national television.

Hands shot up all over the room; Sharon chose one at random, and the hands continued to stay. “If you’re waiting for me to call your name, remember that I don’t know most of you. That’s one of Steve’s jobs. So blue shirt, go.”

The woman lowered her hand. “How did you find out about the affair?”

“By discovering it the same way Columbus discovered America,” Sharon said, her tone wry. “I suspected it was there and then got confirmation.” She pointed at another reporter. “Golfer, you’re up.”

The man in the bright plaid shirt glanced as his clothes as he lowered his hand. “Are- Are you worried about the President being impeached?”

“They can’t legally impeach Steve for this. To qualify for impeachment, he has to commit a crime, and he hasn’t committed a crime. And no US President has ever been impeached simply for having an affair - and we’ve seen quite a few presidents who have had affairs. So no. Sweater vest.”

As he lowered his hand, the man asked, “How long ago did the affair start, and when did you find out about it?”

Sharon held up a finger. “Clever, trying to get two questions in one. Try this on for size: Months ago. Good luck figuring which question I answered. French twist, third row, go.”

The woman lowered her hand, and Sharon had to wonder if all the reporters trained to hold up their hands all day. “How do you think this will affect the President’s ability to pass legislation?”

“He doesn’t have that ability now, frankly, so I doubt it will change based on this.” There were a couple more chuckles, and Sharon nodded at another reporter. “Bow-tie Gator fan.”

“You know the Gators?” he asked as he lowered his hand.

“Is that your question?”

Recalling himself, the man shook his head. “Does this mean the President is gay?”

“I think the term is ‘bisexual,’ actually. And as for people being attracted to Steve, I’d have to say that’s just good common sense. Gray power suit.”

Lowering her hand, the reporter asked, “How _does_ the President intend to get any legislation through Congress, especially after this?”

“I don’t know. I know some senators who wouldn’t mind bribes, but we’re not made of Stark money, so we’ll keep plugging along. And... Hat inside the building. Last question.”

The reporter tugged off her cap and looked around, embarrassed. “I was just wondering how you felt about the Secret Service agent, given that he’s on your protective detail... You must be angry to an extent, right?”

Sharon tapped the sides of the podium. “I was,” she admitted. “But then I realized that my husband still loved me, he just loved the other guy, too.” She bit her lip. “And I don’t know. Steve’s Cabinet is full up, but I never hired a Chief Floral Designer. Always thought the position was pointless, really.” She grinned at the cameras. “But it means I’ve got a job opening in my Cabinet if they take him off my protective detail. So he’s got a place with us so long as we’re around, I guess. Now. To the good stuff.”

She straightened. “Steve and I have tried to get various pieces of legislation through Congress, and every single legislator has blocked us. Steve finally managed to get through a bill to provide everyone with internet access, and that’s falling apart now that we’re ready to get it off the ground. I want you to know what bills of ours Congress has been blocking.” She looked at some of the papers she’d had Daisy grab for her. “Steve’s Domestic Violence resolution to provide funding for domestic violence research and prevention. Did you know that millions of dollars each year go into examining sports injuries, but only thousands go into abuse research, most of it privately donated? Domestic violence victims have the same rates of PTSD as soldiers returning home from war, but that goes unacknowledged. Steve wants to change that. Congress doesn’t.

“Steve proposed legislation to increase welfare funding for the first time in forty years. There are women who have to choose which of their children is going to get enough to eat because the program is so underfunded. Not to mention, it’s almost impossible to improve your life while on welfare now. The people the program exists to help often have to drop out because it’s so difficult to stay on, and that leads to a panoply of problems that drain our economy of resources. It’s common knowledge that when you lift the bottom line, everyone does better. Common knowledge to everyone but Congress, that is.

“Oh, and you want to talk about poverty? Let’s talk about how Native Americans are treated these days...”

* * *

“Holy damn,” Sam murmured as he stared at the screen. “She’s not killing the story, but she’s giving it a solid blow.”

Steve nodded, dumbfounded as he watched her. This was the Sharon who had first caught his eye, the Sharon that had debated with their professors and with other students twice her size. This was the Sharon he’d goaded into debates just so he could talk with her while he worked up the nerve to ask her out. The outrage, the righteous indignation... God, but he couldn’t wait until the two of them were alone later tonight.

She continued for almost half an hour, at one point threatening that if anyone cut away, they’d probably miss something that pertained to them. The legislation she brought up that she and Steve had been working on all impacted lower- and middle-class people, students, immigrants, and people who needed healthcare no matter what their age or background.

“She’s saying ‘we,'” Sam said in approval. “She’s backing you up, man.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder.

Steve grinned like an idiot. That was his wife.

* * *

“So, listen. I know this seems like a big deal. My husband is having an affair. Big whoop. But no one is going to starve because he has a boyfriend. No one is going to watch their child die because he strayed. He’s kept fighting for every person in this country. He’s fought, he’s argued, he’s done everything he can to serve you, and it hasn’t made a dent because Congress has dedicated itself to undermining not just him, but you. Every single person in this country is worse off because Congress is neglecting to do right by you.” She took a breath and glared into the cameras.

“Yes, the President is having an affair. Just like so many other presidents, let alone spouses. But that isn’t news. For us as a country, it doesn’t even rate as a squabble. But Congress screwing you over? That’s news. I’d tell you to google what Congress has succeeded in doing, but it’ll just take you to a federal website that’s antiquated and essentially useless.”

Sharon leaned against the podium, her heart hammering. She hadn’t come out here with a speech, she hadn’t come out here with a plan. And now she was effectively declaring war on the legislative branch. In front of cameras from almost every news organization she could name. This was _not_ how she’d wanted to help Steve.

“So my office is going to make a list and put it online. Every bill that Congress has seen this year, what it would do and how Congress responded. There are hundreds of bills, but we’ll do our best to have it up by the end of the week, and we’ll make it so you can follow our progress. You want transparency from your government? Here it is. Your president is having an affair, his wife is fine with it, and we’re both still working to help you, just like we always have been. Because you deserve that help. Because you’re what’s important, not us. And if Congress won’t help you, all of us - including you - will remind them where they came from and _make_ them act. Remember - Midterms are in November. You shouldn’t keep helping legislators who won’t help you. We’ve seen before how bad things can get when we’re complacent - we need to show Congress that America is not now, nor will it ever be, complicit in its victimization.”

* * *

“And she’s throwing the blame on Congress,” Abe said. “You will need them to succeed, though. I’m not sure attacking them is the best move...”

Sharon ended her speech by telling everyone not just to call their legislators, but to send them emails of their needs, to share family photos. Her office would provide them with any contact information they might need. She shared the phone number for the First Lady’s office - with Daisy calling it out from the side of the stage - thanked the reporters for their time, and walked offstage.

Sam grinned as the camera cut to the news anchors who stared at the camera like deer caught in headlights. “They don’t know what the story is.”

“Send them some of our legislation,” Steve said quickly. “So they can see what Congress shot down.”

Abe crossed his legs at the knee. “They will say you are distracting people from your affair.”

Steve looked from him to Sam. “Send over some bills and tell them I’ll give a speech tomorrow.”

Sam sighed. “This is going to take the rest of the Cabinet,” he warned.

Steve nodded. “Call them back in.” He patted Abe’s knee. “I know I’ve disappointed you,” he said softly, “but I’ll make good, I promise.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call Sharon. And then I think we all have a long night ahead of us."


	14. Chapter 14

Sharon nearly fell as she made her way offstage. Her hands were shaking. She’d never given a speech like that before, never talked alone before so many cameras, and she hoped she never had to again. At least FDR and Woodrow Wilson had taken written speeches with them before addressing the press about war.

She was surrounded by her Cabinet and other aides as soon as she got out of the spotlight. Hope wanted to know about the affair. Betty wanted to know if she was all right. Trip wanted to know how she wanted to coordinate with the President’s office. Daisy wanted know how she wanted the website done.

She took a deep breath. “Hope, Betty. Personal stuff has to wait until later. We need that website up. Trip, see if Steve’s staff already have a chart of their legislation. Someone there should. Make sure we explain what the bill does. Anything else people need to know, like if amendments were added on a fair wage act to minimize access to birth control or provide funding for government weapons, point it out. Daisy, make it easy to find, easy to read, and easy to understand. You know. Palatable to people browsing through. Grab any other aides you need to. You’re in charge of how that’s set up. Hope, Betty, I want you two to spotlight the midterm elections. Every person who’s running for reelection, I want to know their voting record, and I want others to know it, too. I also want to know who else is running in their districts, and we need to provide information about voting. We need a tagline, too. Something about what sort of Congress they want when the President is gone. But not that grim. Got it?”

They nodded but continued to look at her expectantly.

“Go.” Her voice was firm, and she waited until they’d run back to the East Wing before she looked at May. “Where’s Barnes?”

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

“May. Where is he?”

* * *

Bucky walked in to his small apartment, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then leaned against the wall. So that was that, he thought. No more Steve, no more Secret Service job. He’d have to find another way to pay off the debt from Rebecca’s medical bills. How much did waiters make?

After several minutes, he popped the cap off of the beer and took a deep sip. He glanced at the television, but it was another beer before he found the strength to turn it on.

“Why should we listen to a First Lady who wouldn’t even take her husband’s name?” one of the anchors demanded. He held his shoulders back and his chin up in a haughty, self-righteous pose. “It’s not like she could have really loved him, right? What other First Lady hasn’t taken her husband’s name. And she _knew_ about the affair and didn’t care? What sort of wife does that?”

“The kind you’ll probably want to marry some day,” the other anchor shot back. She looked straight into the camera. “An absolutely momentous night in Washington, DC. The President is outed for having an affair with a male Secret Service agent, and the First Lady has come out not only in support of the President, but the other man, too.”

Bucky stared at the TV. What had she just said?

“And the President and First Lady have challenged the people to overthrow the government,” the first anchor announced.

The second looked at him as if he were a slug. “The First Lady has urged people to study Congress and their willingness to do their jobs,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken at all, her voice calm. “The First Lady’s website already has a page open to the bills that Congress has and hasn’t passed. We’ll be talking more about that at the quarter hour, but for now, let’s watch a clip.”

An image of the First Lady in the briefing room came onscreen, and Bucky rubbed the back of his neck as he listened. And damn, if the First Lady hadn’t taken the opportunity to rip Congress a new one. And probably piss off the religious right, too. May must be having an apoplectic fit right now.

As the news segment wore on, he pulled up a chair. There didn’t seem to be any other news worth reporting on right now, and in truth, he didn’t think anyone was interested in anything else right now. He certainly wasn’t. The news cut in every time a new bill was added on the website, and he had to think the First Lady - or Daisy, since she’d be put in charge of the website as one of the more tech-savvy people in the office - had noticed the pattern of reporting the bills in bite-size segments and was milking it for all it was worth.

Damn it, he was going to miss them.

He stared at his beer, trying to think of what they must be doing right now. Pulling another late night, certainly. Ordering pizza. Beer would be off-limits until they were done.

He tried not to think of what Steve might be doing. He’d known all along that he’d eventually be assigned elsewhere. He shouldn’t have-

Not that it mattered now. He’d pick himself back up. Maybe the army would take him back. That would look better on debt collection forms than “unemployed.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, and he frowned. He hadn’t heard his name mentioned on the news yet; the First Lady had specifically said she wouldn’t talk about him because he didn’t deserve that. But that wouldn’t stop reporters from snooping.

He checked the peephole and froze. May, it turned out, was _not_ having an apoplectic fit. From her expression, she was holding off until she clocked out. The First Lady, in comparison, looked perfectly fine. And calm, given the media shitstorm she’d brewed during her brief appearance on television. Morse looked about ready to murder anyone who crossed her, but that was par for the course for her.

He took a breath and opened the door. “Ma’am.” He stepped aside and let May in, waiting while she did a thorough check of his apartment. There wasn’t much to check.

At her nod, the First Lady stepped in and looked around curiously. “I can’t believe it. There’s actually an apartment smaller than the one Steve and I shared in college.” She smiled at him. “I talked about offering you a job. I came to find out whether or not you accept.”

He frowned at her. “Ma’am, I’m not going to help you. I’m toxic right now.”

She waved a hand at the television. “An hour ago, so was Steve.” She paused. “And this would mean you can keep seeing Steve. He’s- he needs you.”

“I think he can deal with having just you. He did for years.”

“And then he met you,” she retorted. “Accept the position, Barnes. And keep in mind I’m referring to the job.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. He turned back to the television, listening as he thought. It was true, he needed a job. He cleared his throat. “How much does it pay?”

The First Lady shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Trip. I don’t even know how much _I_ get paid.”

Bucky bit his thumb. In the end, the lure of staying close to Steve was too strong, just as it always was. “If I make things worse, I quit,” he promised.

The First Lady rolled her eyes. “Fine. Sure. Let’s pretend things won’t get worse. In Washington. The white-marbled cesspool of America. Sure.” She glanced at her watched. “My Cabinet’s pulling an all-nighter. So’s Steve’s. So let’s go.” She looked up at him and took in his wrinkled suit. “You might want to change and brush your teeth first.”

Shit. Right. The beer. She could probably smell it. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“And call me Sharon. My Cabinet does that.”

Her Cabinet was also composed of friends that she’d known for years. He didn’t think he fit the bill. “Bucky.”

Sharon nodded. “I’ll wait outside, then.”

He waited until she was gone, and he wasn’t surprised when May passed him and seethed, “We’re talking about this later.”

* * *

Steve’s phone was ringing nonstop. Elsewhere in the office, he heard other phones doing the same. The chatter was constant as people called their contacts and made plans or corrections or asked for information on different things. All of the televisions were set to different news networks; two aides kept an eye on the AP feed. It was well after midnight, and Sam had already assigned shifts so the West Wing could work nonstop.

“I’m sending aides over to the East Wing,” Sam said, rubbing his eyes and glaring at a sheet until it came into focus. “Sharon doesn’t have the staff you’ve got.”

Steve nodded. “Do it.”

Sam eyed him. “I didn’t ask permission, man.” There was a hint of a grin to it, though, and Steve responded by flipping him off. Something in the hall caught Sam’s eye, and he frowned. “That him?”

Confused, Steve walked around the desk and looked out the Oval Office’s doorway. His heart jumped into his throat. Sharon led Bucky through the throng with her arm through his, looking for all the world like they were bosom buddies. He couldn’t believe how much he owed her, how much he loved her.

“Yeah,” he told Sam.

“Hmph,” Sam muttered. “But we both agree I’m hotter, right?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Wilson?”

Sam scowled. “Hell no. I seduce you, you make me help you move again. And I’m through with that, Rogers. Through.” He nodded to Sharon as she came in, kissing her on the cheek as he moved to the door. “Hell of a speech, First Lady Carter.”

“Well,” she said primly. “If we’re going to burn, we might as well go out in a fucking fireball.”

Sam laughed, then rubbed his temples. “I am so glad you didn’t use that language in the press conference. I’m going to go make sure everyone knows their shifts and then I’m gonna take a shift off. Sleep in my office.” He looked at Bucky and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson. We’ve never officially met.”

Bucky looked vaguely surprised but gave Sam’s hand a firm shake. “Bucky Barnes. Sir. Nice to meet you.”

“Not if you hurt either of them,” Sam said cheerfully. He left, still smiling, and Steve blinked at Sharon and Bucky.

“He doesn’t mean that,” he said.

“No,” Bucky said. “He does. I don’t mind. That’s the sort of things good friends do.”

Steve clenched his jaw. Honestly, after the roller coaster this day had been, he could have cried right then and there. “What are you doing h-” He looked at Sharon in surprise. “Did you really give him the Chief Floral Designer job?”

She nodded. “Figured it would keep him close but not _too_ close. No offense, Steve, but you still have a job to do, and I don’t want you getting an erection in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.” She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “I have to get to the East Wing, but I figured you’d want to see him. Send him over when you’re done, all right?”

He grabbed her hand as she pulled away and drew her in to a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. He wanted to tell her what this day had been like for him, what hell it had been, what it meant to him that she’d not only given the speech she had but that she was doing this, too, but he couldn’t find the words to express how grateful he was. Instead, he held her even tighter and whispered again, “Thank you.”

She hugged him back, a little awkwardly, and he remembered that no matter how she might behave in front of others right now, she was still having trouble adjusting to the affair. He quickly let her go. “Easy, Rogers,” she said, laughing nervously as she set her clothes to rights. “People might think you like me.”

It was an old tease, and he shared a grin with her before she left. Alone, he looked to Bucky, and then he drew Bucky into a tight hug, too.

Bucky took a deep breath against his neck, and Steve remembered that he wasn’t the only one who’d had an emotionally taxing day.

“You okay?”

“Better than I was. You?”

“Same.” Steve pulled away and grinned. “So you’ll be working here now. Again.”

Bucky nodded. “And we don’t have to be so secretive, if everybody knows.”

Steve nodded, grinning. “Not tonight, though,” he admitted. “I don’t think I’m up to anything tonight other than getting a little more work done and going to bed.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“I’m giving a speech tomorr- later today,” Steve said. Sam had already drafted an outline, with more than a little input from Steve and Abe. It was weird, how much the process had been like therapy. It had made him think about his relationship with Bucky as he never had before. “You should watch.”

Bucky swallowed. “I will. I think everybody will. The news hasn’t talked about anything else but you and the Fir- Sharon.”

He’d never heard Bucky call Sharon by name before, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face. “She’s amazing.”

Bucky nodded. “And I think I’d better go earn my keep.”

Steve moved to the door, but before he opened it for Bucky, he stole a kiss. “Have a good first day, Bucky.”

* * *

That kiss was enough to help Bucky withstand the people who stared at him in the halls. Rumlow especially seemed happy to point him out to people, but Bucky could ignore that. He had a job. He was loved. He had a future that he hadn’t had two hours ago. He had hope.

He let himself into the First Lady’s office and took his customary position by the wall until May glared at him. Morse was asleep in a chair; Daisy had fallen asleep on the couch.

Sharon was the only one still awake, though he knew she must be running more on adrenaline than anything else. She glared at him when she saw him move closer. He stopped short. She stabbed a finger at the computer. “Do you know how the fuck HTML works?” she demanded.

He sighed. “I know Steve’s going to bed soon and you have a long day tomorrow. How about you take a break, help me put Daisy in one of the bedrooms, and you get back to work in the morning?”

She glared at the computer. “I can keep going.”

“And then oversleep and make mistakes,” he pointed out.

She gnawed her lip and looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. “Can you be back at eight? I don’t know what you’ll be doing yet, but you’re in the Cabinet now, so...”

He nodded. “Just tell me where to drop off Daisy.” Carefully, he scooped up the sleeping girl. She stirred in his arms, then settled. Quietly, Sharon led him to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Once they’d tucked her in, he followed her into the hall.

“I feel kind of bad,” she admitted. “I dragged you all the way down here, and now I’m sending you back without actually doing anything.”

Bucky shrugged. “I carried Daisy. That’s something.” He grinned, a little shyly. “Besides, I’d say having a job is a good way to end the day.” He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded toward her bedroom. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m still... I’m not as against it as I was, but I’m still not thrilled. It’s weird, sharing my husband.”

He nodded. “Understandable. For what it’s worth? I’m glad he married you.” He stopped outside the doorway to her and Steve’s room.

“And I’m glad he found you,” she said, sounding a little doubtful. Still, it was better than nothing. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, M- Sharon.”


	15. Chapter 15

He got in early, wanting to make a good first impression, and found that Hope, Betty, and Christine were already seated and nursing large cups of coffee.

“So you’re the mistress-man,” Christine said, eying him up and down.

“Christine,” Betty murmured. Betty wasn’t necessarily the pacifist in the group, but she certainly did a good job of keeping people calm when she wanted to.

Christine was having none of it. “No,” she seethed. “I don’t care that you and the President have been knocking boots or whatever euphemism you want to use, but you got _caught._ And that’s a pain in my ass. And now she’s hired you, and you have _no idea_ what a headache that’s going to be.”

“Keep the conversation on Congress.” Hope’s voice was tired, as if she’d said the same thing several times before Bucky even came in. “Sharon’s right. The affair isn’t newsworthy except to people who know them. And whatever’s going on with Congress is more newsworthy on a national scale.” She lifted her face. “That said. Have a seat, Barnes.”

He supposed they would have done the interrogation sooner or later, but he still found himself wishing he’d waited to come in until later. He took one of the empty chairs and waited.

“Your intentions toward Steve,” Hope ordered. “What are they?”

Bucky shrugged. He tried to think of something that wouldn’t piss them off, but he wasn’t diplomatic like Steve or Betty. “To be with him in any capacity I’m allowed,” he muttered at last, more than a little embarrassed. Interrogations weren’t his favorite thing, but he knew that if he failed now, he’d never make up for it later.

Hope and Betty glanced at each other.

“That’s sweet,” Christine said, her voice cold, “but if you get in a single photo beside Sharon or Steve, I’ll have your head. Am I clear? No photos with them. I do _not_ need that story right now on top of everything else.”

“ _Christine._ ” Betty murmured.

Christine held up a finger as her phone rang and turned away to take the call. 

Betty set her coffee down long enough to rub her temples. “Have you apologized to Sharon?”

At least that was an easier question to answer. “Yes.” He could feel May’s eyes boring into the back of his neck. Did she ever sleep? “The President and I didn’t want to hurt her. We just...” He shrugged. “He’s-” He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think of what to say. “I can see what she sees in him,” he said at last.

Hope held up a finger. “No.”

Damn it.

“You met him when he was President, not when he had absolutely nothing,” Hope continued. “When Sharon met him, Steve was in school on a scholarship that he almost lost because he was too sick to go to classes. His parents were dead, he didn’t have any other family, and he had no way to go into politics. Cold, sure, but true. Poor people don’t get into politics. The system is rigged against them. So you came along after Sharon helped make him what he is today. You don’t see what it is that Sharon saw.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, even though he disagreed. But Hope and Sharon were good friends, and he’d slept with Sharon’s husband. Several times. And he hadn’t forgotten that Sharon had talked to Hope about Steve possibly cheating on her and Hope saying he would never do such a thing. He suspected Hope wasn't upset with him so much as she was with herself.

Betty seemed to think the same. Without making a fuss, she poured him a cup of coffee. “You know the hours we keep,” she said quietly.

He nodded his thanks and took the cup. “Not sure what I’m doing here, to be honest.” No, he knew. He was here to keep Steve happy. He didn’t mind, but he wanted to do his job, too. “The First- Sharon never had a Chief Floral Designer before, and I’m... not Chief Floral Designer material.”

Hope smirked at him.

“None of us were Cabinet material before she made us her Cabinet,” Betty offered. At a sniff from across the room, she amended her statement. “Except Christine. Christine, of course, was born to this.” Once Christine was distracted by her phone conversation, she continued, “Daisy was just a student who wanted to help out. This isn’t what Trip wanted out of life at all. Sam, in the President’s office? He’s one of Steve’s kind-of military friends.”

“Kind-of military friends,” Bucky echoed.

Hope examined her nails, although her attention was still locked on Bucky. “He wanted to join the military, so he started training. Used the same jogging paths as a bunch of military guys. He and Steve hit it off.”

“But Steve was sick a lot, wasn’t he?”

Hope peered at him more closely. “How do you not know this already?”

Bucky swallowed. “There were times I thought it was better that he get some rest,” he said at last. As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard how it sounded. His jaw fell. “I mean. There were times when we could have talked - _just_ talked. But you know how their jobs are. I told them to get some sleep instead.”

“‘Them?'” Hope echoed.

Bucky closed his mouth. Damn it. He was supposed to keep Steve and Sharon’s secrets. Secret Service or no, he wouldn’t fail them in that.

“You,” Christine said distastefully, “are not allowed near the press. At _all._ Understand?”

Bucky nodded morosely.

* * *

“Ready to face the day?” Sharon asked.

Steve tied the laces on his shoes and watched her put earrings on in the mirror. “Is it bad that I’m kind of looking forward to it?” She eyed him in the mirror. “This is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve accomplished something here.” He grinned. “We haven’t actually done anything yet, but we’ve challenged Congress.”

“It could backfire,” she warned.

He moved to stand behind her, loosely wrapping his arms around her waist. “Maybe. But we just made history.”

Her lips quirked. “I think you did that, dear.”

He helped her put her necklace on. “No, that speech yesterday... It reminded me of when we were still in school together.” He swallowed and stepped back to give her room. They’d gotten closer last night, making out until they fell asleep, but he knew they still had a long way to go. “Do you think you can be a little late today?” he suggested, trying to do a smooth eyebrow waggle.

Which succeeded in almost making her laugh. That was a good sign.

He jumped as she slapped his ass.

“Let’s save the world first. Save something to look forward to for later.”

He grinned as he watched her head out.

* * *

“Morning,” Sharon greeted them as she walked in. Daisy and Trip still looked dead on their feet, though judging by the enormous coffee cups someone had dug out for them, they’d be awake soon. “How’s everybody doing?”

Hope looked at her suspiciously. “Did you get laid last night?” she demanded.

Sharon frowned. She doubted Hope would be so crass if Bucky weren’t there. Or maybe she would be; one of the first things that had drawn her to Hope was the woman’s upfront attitude and understated humor. “No, I didn’t. I did, however, get sleep. Which I hope all of you got, too. Daisy, I tried to keep the website uploads going but couldn’t figure out how you were doing it.”

Daisy yawned. “I’ve got them cued up until two p.m. They post every twenty minutes. Long enough to get into the news cycle and whet people’s appetite for more. I’m going to do more this morning.”

Sharon nodded. “Hope? Betty? On the reelection site?”

“We’ve got a list. Pairing it with local voting information before we make it live,” Hope answered. “We wanted it to make a bigger splash than doing it piecemeal. We figure we’ll put it up after Steve’s speech.”

“Which is at one,” Christine chimed in.

She glanced at Bucky, wondering what he thought of all this. She and Steve would still keep their positions no matter what; Steve’s legal team had advised him of that the night before. Bucky, however, was in a flimsier position. He was replaceable in the eyes of the public, even if he wasn’t to Steve. And he was still on the outside, for the most part, which meant he had no idea what Steve was planning. Not even Sharon knew all the details.

“Call over to Steve’s office and see if we can get a copy of a draft of the speech so we know what to expect. Prepare a plan for fallout. We aren’t going to focus on the affair. We’re going to focus on issues. Anyone who asks about the affair, brush it off as unimportant and turn the subject back to Congress’s stagnation.”

Christine eyed Bucky but nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Trip? How many cancellations did I have this morning?”

“Let’s just say you’re down to a meeting with a girl scout troop at four this afternoon, and the troop mother is hedging.”

Sharon grinned at the thought of upsetting troop mothers. She should probably feel worse about that, but the idea that standing beside her husband would be revolutionary amused the darker aspects of her humor. “How many legislators canceled?”

“Four. You were supposed to have lunch with two of them.”

“Were they going to pay for lunch?”

Trip’s lips twisted. “You seriously have to ask?”

“Right. We’ll have lunch here, then. Piecemeal. Order some pizzas, get some beer - Yes, May, I know. It’s for later, though - and see what the Chef is willing to make us, too, for some healthier options or whatever. Okay. Let’s get to work.”

They all separated or paired up. She trusted them to know what needed to be done and to know how to do it. Only one of them didn’t start working right away, and she tapped a pen against her desk as she considered. “Bucky, come here.” She beckoned him closer with a finger, and he came over immediately. She tried to think of a task to give him, and then it occurred to her. “I need you to look over some files for me and tell me if you notice anything out of the ordinary.” She pulled the stack from the locked drawer in her desk. “This is what I’ve got so far. Let me know if you see anything I didn’t.” Or Nick didn’t.

But in the end, he wouldn’t feel like dead weight, wouldn’t have to deal with people in the halls staring at him... And who knew? Maybe he’d find something after all.

* * *

By one, Bucky’s head was spinning, and he was glad for the break that Steve’s speech provided. All around the East Wing, everyone fell into a hush as television volumes were raised.

Steve, wearing an attractive suit Bucky hadn’t seen before, took the podium. “Good afternoon,” he greeted the cameras. “News broke yesterday that I cheated on my wife, Sharon Carter. It’s true, I cheated on her. I don’t love her any less, I simply also love someone else, too. She’s been... wonderful enough to put up with me through it all, and I will never be able to reiterate enough how fortunate I am to have her in my life.” He grinned in the slightly awed way he did whenever he thought of Sharon, and Bucky’s heart melted a little. “Her father told me when she agreed to marry me that I was a lucky man. I’m struck every day by how right he was.”

Steve straightened. “And now that I’ve given _that_ so-called news story all the time and attention it deserves, I, like Sharon, am going to call attention to Congress...”

The speech was impassioned. It wasn’t the call to war that Sharon’s had been, but the message to Congress was the same; the people weren’t going to stand for it anymore. As brief as it was, it left Bucky’s heart pumping, and he could see by the flurry of activity in the room and in the hall that it had had the desired effect. The one person who wasn’t moving excitedly was Sharon.

Quietly, ignoring May’s death glare, he moved behind her desk and bent over.

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” She looked taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded. “I just didn’t know he talked to my dad- I mean, I know he did. Steve asked permission to marry me. But I didn’t know my dad said that.”

Bucky frowned as she fell into silence. He’d gathered that she didn’t have the easiest relationship with her parents - there weren’t any pictures of them, and she never mentioned them - but he didn’t know the full story. “He’s right, though, Ma’am. He’s lucky to have you.”

She glanced at him, smiling faintly. “Sharon,” she reminded him.

He made a face. “Right. Old habits.”

“If you want to do another old habit...” she offered. “And by ‘old habit,’ I mean my husband.”

Bucky cleared his throat, grateful for the rest of the noise in the room that covered up not only the subject of the conversation, but Sharon’s terrible jokes. Not that it stopped May from staring at him as if she knew precisely what was going on. “Is that how we’re going to do things now?” he asked, half-teasing. “Making fun of him when he isn’t around to defend himself?”

Her smile widened. “It’s the best time to make fun of him,” she said conspiratorially.

Bucky found himself grinning back. “Well. Thank you for the offer, but I think you two need another night. It looks like I’ll be around awhile.”

“If you can find out what the hell is wrong with Congress, I’ll make sure you’re around for _ever,_ ” she wheedled.

He grinned and went back to the files.


	16. Chapter 16

By the end of the week, Congress’s inability to pass legislation was old news. It still got referred to sometimes, though not as often as Steve’s affair, but even that didn’t seem as big a story anymore.

Bucky took to carrying the folders everywhere he went. He knew Sharon meant well by having him tag along with her to various meetings, but there were only so many discussions about the hurdles facing gender equality he could handle before he wanted to hurl. The only one he paid attention to was the one in Omaha where Sharon was accused of personally trying to sneak chemicals into the water supply. He glanced at May at that one, automatically searching to follow her cue, but she looked to Morse and the new Secret Service agent in the detail, Sitwell. Grudgingly, her eyes slid to Bucky, and he quietly gathered his things and helped them hustle Sharon out.

Which May must have known would put Sharon in a foul mood. Sharon never seemed to back down from a fight, and she resented that the Secret Service demanded she do so. If May had done this as revenge, knowing that Bucky was now part of Sharon’s retinue and would have to listen to the First Lady as she complained, it was a good revenge. In the end, he’d had to put Steve on the phone to help calm her down.

“I still don’t like it,” she said after she hung up and passed his phone back.

“You don’t have to like it,” he reminded her. “You just have to stay alive.”

“I really don’t think that guy was a threat.”

Bucky shrugged. “May reads people well. And the guy was just getting worse. It was a smart call.”

“Not necessarily the right call. It makes us look weak. Afraid.”

Bucky sighed. “At least you’re alive to look those things.”

It didn’t escape his notice, though, that he was now either put in the room closest to Sharon’s or a connecting one. Despite how he wasn’t on the best of terms with May anymore, he made time during the trip to fall into step beside her. “I’m staying in a room that’s supposed to go to an agent.”

She didn’t look at him as they walked. “Morse and Sitwell are first line of defense. I’m last.”

He frowned at her. “Then you should be in the-” He nearly fell as he realized the implication. “I’m being protected, too?”

She glared witheringly at him. “Not officially. Not until we determine if you qualify as one of the President’s loved ones.”

Oh, Jesus. That was an aspect of a relationship with Steve that he hadn’t anticipated. The government was very, very interesting in assigning names to things, something he and Steve had actively avoided. They could call what they had an affair, even a relationship. But what kind of a relationship was still something they weren’t prepared to discuss.

“And you don’t seem inclined to murder the First Lady.”

Bucky frowned at her. “What? No. Why would I-” He shook his head. “I’m not an agent anymore, but I gave my word.”

“And the President would be compromised if something were to happen to her.”

Bucky nodded. He’d never considered himself more important to Steve than Sharon, so that wasn’t worth arguing about.

May’s glare wasn’t as fierce now. “And that’s why you’re in the agent’s room. That, and I don’t want to have to listen to you two coordinate late-night phone calls with the President while shouting across the hall.”

Bucky stopped and stared after her. “We- we don’t do that,” he muttered.

Well. Not that they’d ever had to...

* * *

“Polyamory,” Hope said. She and Sharon were lying in Sharon’s bed together, drinking wine and watching a Reese Witherspoon movie while they read over Olympic host countries. Civil unrest in the country didn’t bode well for both Steve and Sharon going for an extended period of time, or maybe any time, but they still needed to be able to talk about it if the press asked.

“Hm?”

“You, Steve, and Barnes. It’s poly. We got emails about it.”

Sharon eyed Hope over her reading glasses. “We got emails about a lot of things that day, I imagine.”

Hope shrugged, her head bent over some papers. “But the polyamory thing was a good one. I looked it up. It’s where people love more than one person at the same time. It can work. I just thought you should know.”

Sharon studied her and took a slow sip of wine. “I don’t blame you, you know. For not believing me.”

“You’d better not,” Hope muttered.

“I’d lie to you, too, if the situations were reversed.”

Hope’s head snapped toward her, and Sharon made a face. Hope’s features softened. “How do I always forget what a bitch you can be?”

Sharon grinned. “Because I’m good at hiding my true nature. And you can’t call a woman a bitch during a Reese Witherspoon movie. It’s not feminist.”

Hope rolled her eyes. “I hope you meet one of those drug cartels at the Olympics.”

Sharon snorted. She really didn’t blame Hope for not believing her about Steve. Hell, she’d found the condoms, and even _she_ hadn’t believed it. And Steve... she’d never noticed anything too different in his behavior. And when he’d stopped hiding the affair from her, the only difference had been that he was _more_ caring and respectful. “Polyamory, you said?”

Hope nodded. “I don’t know what sort of set-up you three have. So I printed some stuff out on my home computer.” She handed Sharon a stuffed folder, still not looking up from her other papers.

Sharon, however, put her work aside and opened the folder, browsing through the papers inside. She took another sip of her wine. “Do you think I did the right thing by hiring him?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t done anything but gone over those files you gave him.”

“Hm.” Sharon had to admit that Bucky was certainly being thorough with those files. He hadn’t told her if he’d found anything yet, though. She supposed he would eventually. He’d have to. Or else admit that he hadn’t found anything. She thought he was honorable enough to do that. Sure, he’d fucked her husband behind her back for months, but he seemed to have a strong sense of... duty, she supposed.

“Is it working? You three?”

Sharon shrugged. She had to be pragmatic. “At this point, it can’t _not_ work. We’ve got too much riding on it. If it doesn’t work, the media and religious right will tear us to shreds. We couldn’t get a table at a furniture store.”

“Aww.” Hope patted her arm. “If that ever happens, I’ll buy a restaurant for you to eat at.”

She pursed her lips; she noticed that Hope’s tone implied the “you” was singular. She wondered if that was because Hope thought that Sharon would be left alone after the dust settled or if Hope was just making it clear she was in Sharon’s corner. She didn’t think dwelling on it after a day of working and a bottle of wine would help, though. “That’s why you’re my best bitch friend.”

* * *

“We got a message from Pierce that he wants to meet,” Sam announced as soon as Lorraine gave them the room.

“About giving us the completion of the internet bill?” Steve frowned. “Any chance we were wrong on that?”

Sam tucked his clipboard under an arm. “If we’re wrong about it, I’ll eat your gym socks after your morning run.”

Steve mock-shuddered. Tapping his fingers against the desk, he said, “Tell Pierce that I don’t have time to hear his excuses for why he hasn’t already funded the internet bill, which I assume is why he wants to meet. And remind him that the Army doesn’t need the eight hundred million dollar tanks that are now getting funded because someone decided to take that money out of the education fund. I know about the fleet of tanks in the desert that the military already has access to but isn’t using. I also know that schools need that money a hell of a lot more than the military.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “He’s a power player, Steve. You sure you want to piss him off?”

“Let’s face it, Sam. I’m not getting a second term.” He straightened some papers on his desk. “It’s fight or forfeit. So let’s keep hammering them until we get something more than scraps.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

“Your milk’s expired.”

Bucky dropped the folders and spun, reaching for a gun he no longer carried. He wasn’t allowed one at work anymore, and given that he couldn’t leave a gun with a bus driver, it had seemed best to leave any weapons at home.

Which meant he was aiming an imaginary gun at the Director of the CIA in his dingy apartment. He quickly lowered his hands, then closed the door and bent to pick up the files. Damn it. He was going to have to reorganize all of them.

“I’ve been out of town. Didn’t get the chance to stop at the grocery store on the way home.” He studied Director Fury, trying not to appear hostile. “Can I help you with something?”

Fury nodded at the folders. “She gave me those first, you know.”

Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “If you’re calling dibs, that’s too damn bad, sir.”

Fury watched him, then gave a slow now. “I’ve been working on it on my own. Have a seat, Barnes.”

Biting his tongue so he wouldn’t point out that this was _his_ apartment, he sat at the table shoved against the wall. He took the corner seat, though, the one that kept his back to the wall and that Fury would likely take if he could.

Fury seemed to know it, too. He smirked as he took the only other chair. “She’s right. Something’s going on. But here’s the thing. If something’s going on, it’s something big. Conspiracy big. And that means that if anyone notices you’re investigating, it could lead to trouble. Trouble for the First Lady. Understood?”

Bucky nodded grimly. It made sense. It was suspicious that Congress was as unhelpful as it was. Resistance along party lines had become common in recent administrations, but everyone had thought Congress would work together more after the previous administration finally ended. He’d poked around, aware that he couldn’t do a full-fledged investigation and that in his current situation, he couldn’t flirt with a secretary to get the answers without starting unwanted gossip. He’d mostly focused on gathering what biographical information he could on different legislators. He didn’t have access to the Secret Service’s records anymore, but he had an excellent memory.

“You’re asking me to drop the investigation.”

Fury frowned at him. “I’m _telling_ you to drop the investigation.”

Bucky licked his lips. “The First Lady told me to do this.”

“She’ll understand. Make sure she knows I said so. I can’t contact her about it directly right now.”

May wasn’t the only one who was paranoid. Of course, this might be more than paranoia. The Director certainly seemed to think so.

“I’ll tell her,” he said at last. He paused, then added. “Agent May suspects something’s off, too. Have you checked with her on this?”

“No. Think I should?”

Bucky nodded. “She’s one of the sharpest agents I’ve worked with. And if there’s the slightest threat to the First Lady, she’ll take it seriously.”

“She didn’t notice you fucking the President.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “No one did. We were careful.”

“Until Sharon found you.”

He couldn’t defend himself on that front.

“I’ll be blunt,” Fury said, getting to his feet and leaning over to take the folders. “You wreck those kids’ lives, particularly hers, I’ll shoot you and make it look like your goddamn fairy godmother did it.”

“My fairy godmother uses an Uze,” Bucky said lightly, fighting the urge to take the folders back.

Fury smirked. “Good to know. I’ll get in touch with May. Tell Sharon I said hi, but make sure you do it quietly.”

In seconds, Bucky was alone in his apartment, but Fury’s presence and the implied threat of a conspiracy hung heavy in the air.


	17. Chapter 17

“It’s called polyamory.” Sharon crawled into bed beside Steve and spread some of Hope’s papers on the bed. “It’s not new, we just weren’t taught about this shit in school.”

“I remember polyps,” Steve said, picking up one of the papers and skimming over it. His brows sprang together as he saw something that clicked and read more closely.

Sharon leaned over and kissed his cheek. “So there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re like a lot of people.”

He held up one of the papers. “Like at least 60% of men, apparently.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t remember us getting that survey in the mail in either of our home states, so I have some questions about their sample size.”

He grinned and wrapped an arm around her. He spotted one set of papers that looked like it had been thumbed through a number of times and tugged it closer. “Do’s and don’t for polyamorous relationships,” he read. “Hope did this?”

Sharon nodded and pulled her laptop into her lap. “Don’t think she likes you, though. She said if we get screwed, I’m the only one she’s allowing in the restaurant she buys.”

Steve kissed her temple. “Good thing I never thought she was my friend before she was yours.” He read over some more of the papers, frowning. They passed roughly half an hour in silence as he read and she worked. As she typed away, something slowly started to unfurl in his chest, a tight little ball that he hadn’t even realized was there. Something painful that no longer hurt so much. There wasn’t something wrong with him, there wasn’t something ugly. He could love two people at once. Others had. And it could _work._ “This... this is me.” He smiled at her, and it must have been one hell of a smile, because she seemed taken aback.

She smiled back, though, and bumped into him with her shoulder. “Congratulations on not being broken.”

“Thank you.” He carefully gathered the papers spread across the bed and put them in a neat, orderly stack. He’d have to thank Hope, too, though that would have to wait. He looked at Sharon. “Are you... I mean, how do you feel about this?”

She hesitated, then rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Steve. If that means there are three people in our marriage, then there are three people in our marriage. And Bar- Bucky isn’t a bad guy. He really seems to care about you, and he seems... determined to do his job. Honorable, I think is the word. If you were going to fall for anyone else, I think I’m glad it was him.”

Steve couldn’t stop grinning. “He likes you, too, you know.”

“He’d better. I’m his boss now.” She wrinkled her nose at him, and he chuckled and caught her chin before gently kissing her lips.

“I’d like to make love to you,” he told her, earnest. He was happy. He loved her. He missed her. She could make him happier still. “If you’re up to it.”

For a moment, she looked at him, her eyes dancing. Without looking at her laptop, she closed it and set it on the nightstand. “Making love to my husband. Egads. However will my modesty take it?”

He smiled and rolled on top of her as she squealed, her ensuing laughter muffled by a kiss.

* * *

Bucky blinked at Sharon when she came in the next morning. She looked happier than he’d seen her in a while, and part of him ached with fear and suspicion in regards to why.

He swallowed it down. He had a job to do. When everyone else had their assigned tasks, he moved quietly to the side of her desk. “I need a word. In private.”

She looked up at him, her expression turning faintly embarrassed as he didn’t look away from her, and he knew. She and Steve had slept together the night before. He told himself he should be glad for them. Steve’s marriage mattered to him. Sharon mattered to him. And Sharon was a good person. He liked her. He did.

But that didn’t stop him from being worried about what would happen to him.

He could tell the exact moment she noticed he didn’t have her files with him because she frowned and looked around the room for them. He cleared his throat. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. And your friend.” He scratched his eyebrow.

Her lips pressed together as she understood. “Come on.” She stood up quietly and nodded at Trip to tell him to keep going. Bucky followed as she led the way outside, and he wasn’t surprised when May fell into step behind them.

In the Kennedy Garden, Sharon stopped and turned to face him. “Did Nick do something?”

There was enough of a chill in the air that she rubbed her hands, and Bucky tugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Took the folders. He doesn’t want you snooping anymore. He thinks there _is_ something going on, but that means a conspiracy.” He looked to May and beckoned her closer. “And May thinks something’s up, too.”

“Do I?” May’s voice was flat.

Bucky tried not to glare at her. “Additional security for her, even in the White House. You know something’s up. Even Camp David, you made sure she had security, even if it was just me.”

May frowned at him.

“ _May._ ”

Bucky might not be able to get May to answer him, but Sharon was another matter. May turned to her and half-closed her eyes. “They should have trained you before you moved into the White House.”

Sharon frowned. “I passed that test with flying colors, May. My background, they probably knew I would.”

May’s expression turned sour. “It’s protocol that you take it. No matter how experienced you are. You need to take it, and we need to know you took it. That you didn’t implies someone dropped the ball. Badly.”

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Sharon said, “Isn’t that Coulson’s job? He’s a good guy. Nick knows him.”

“Coulson couldn’t get either of your scheduled. He finally had to... pull strings.”

Bucky looked at May closely, but she didn’t elaborate.

Sharon frowned. “So there’s a shadowy conspiracy that may or may not be out to get me and Steve, and Nick feels it’s valid enough that he doesn’t want anyone knowing we’re even looking into it?”

Bucky nodded.

She sighed. “Well, then we’re fucked. At least we can rule out Congress - they can’t tie their own shoelaces, let alone organize a conspiracy.”

May didn’t look convinced, but May also wasn’t the sort to rule anyone out without absolute proof.

Sharon glanced at May, who stared back, stone-faced. Sharon looked to Bucky for a moment, then back to May. “Actually, May, I have to ask Bucky something of a personal question. Mind giving us a second? I’m sure someone will still want to kill me in five minutes.”

May’s eyebrows snapped together, but she faded back against the wall.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Bucky murmured.

“Hm?”

“Be glib about your safety. May takes it seriously. So do all the Secret Service agents here.”

She _almost_ looked contrite, but he knew her well enough by know to see that she was only considering it. “I refuse to be ground under heel by people trying to kill me, Bucky.”

He wasn’t willing to drop it just yet. “At least pretend to take it seriously with May. She deserves that much.”

After a moment, she nodded grudgingly. “Fine, fine.” She paused as if waiting, then said, “Do you want to chastise me some more or do I get to ask what I wanted to ask you now?”

He sighed. Great. He’d put her in a mood. “Go ahead.”

“Steve and I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. Are you available?”

Bucky blinked at her. “Uh... yeah. I can, um. I can pencil you in.”

She grinned, said something he didn’t quite hear, and disappeared back inside with May trailing after her. It was May who tossed his jacket back to him.

He was going on- Wait. Was he going on a date with the President and First Lady tonight? Or did they think something more was going to happen? He swallowed thickly.

* * *

“If you think you’re nervous,” Sharon said as she straightened Steve’s cuffs, “think about how nervous _he_ is. He guarded us at dinner for months, and May told me he still had to ask her what time we ate dinner.”

“I just never asked what he likes to eat,” Steve fretted. “What kind of weird-kind-of boyfriend am I?”

She straightened and cupped his cheeks. “A weird-kind-of one.” One with a wife who still wasn’t sure about how she felt about her husband having a boyfriend on the side. But Steve still loved her, and she still loved him, and if this was what he needed, she’d do it. They’d agreed that Sharon wouldn’t have to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. Now they just had to see where Bucky stood.

She turned so he could help her with her necklace, and his fingers ghosted purposefully along her skin as he secured the chain. “He’ll be here any minute, Steve.”

He kissed her neck. “He knows we’re married.”

She sighed. “And it’s probably going to set everything off on the wrong foot if he walks in to find us having sex.”

He touched his lips to her neck once more anyway. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve mentioned it.”

“I’ll tell Sam to make sure I mention it more.”

She grinned at him in the mirror. “I’m sure Sam will appreciate that, since he doesn’t have enough to do otherwise.”

Steve rolled his eyes, then froze at the sound of a knock. 

Sharon sighed as he dove beside her to check his reflection. “Oh, my God. You look fine, Steve. Trust me.” She slipped her hand into his and pulled him to the door. Honestly. Was this his first date with Bu- Oh, damn. Of course it was. Or at least, the closest thing he’d ever had to a date with him. She shook her head and opened the door, cutting off whatever Rumlow was saying to a rather sour-faced Bucky, who looked like he’d dug out his best shirt for the occasion even though it was a little too small. She grinned her most charming smile and held the door open wider. “Bucky. Come in.”

He glanced at Rumlow before he did so, and she closed the door quietly before walking back around to stand beside Steve.

The two men stared at one another, looking at turns scared and shy and hopeful.

She raised an eyebrow. “Would it help if you two made out first?”

Both of them immediately stared at her, and Steve spluttered a little before coughing into his hand. She would have to tease him later about being Leader of the Free World.

She turned to Bucky. “Don’t worry. We wanted to have you over for dinner. And to discuss how the relationship will progress from here on out.” _The_ relationship. Not his and Steve’s relationship. There were three of them in this now, whether they liked it or not. She led the way over to the table beside the window; she and Steve had both decided that the portico might feel too open for what would be a rather private conversation.

Slowly, the other two followed, with Steve resting a light hand on the small of Bucky’s back. They reached the table in time for Steve to pull out her chair. “It turns out that it’s called polyamory,” Steve explained. “That I’m polyamorous.” He said it with warmth and pride, and her heart ached for him a little. She didn’t think he’d ever even suspected that he was remotely normal before Hope had shared her research. “But that doesn’t mean you two are. So I wanted to - _we_ wanted to work out an arrangement and make sure all of us were comfortable.”

Bucky’s expression was nearly inscrutable, as always. Sharon got only the faintest impression that he was surprised. “How do you propose we do that?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Well. We have to be open with each other about our limits. And if anyone feels they’re being taken for granted.”

Sharon appreciated that he glanced at her when he said it, but she wasn’t really sure how to handle it. Of the three of them, she was likely the most uncomfortable one there, and she wasn’t sure how to make it less comfortable. In the end, she got up to let the chef and his staff in when he knocked, and while the table was set and conversation fell into a lull, Sharon took up the topic of granting DC sovereignty over itself as if she’d only paused to answer the door.

Steve took it up as well, and the two continued to explain to Bucky how important it was that the people of DC be able to decide how their city was run, given that the city only had a delegate in Congress, and Congress could decide DC laws even though Congress was unfamiliar or unconcerned about the constituency. Once the chef and his staff left, Bucky looked between them mulishly.

“Not a good precursor, dear,” Sharon murmured.

“Precursor?” Bucky echoed.

Steve threw his hands wide in surrender. “I- We wanted to ask you to move in with us."


	18. Chapter 18

Once again, they were late to Camp David, taking time after work to move Bucky into the First Lady’s room. It was no accident they’d waited until most of the press had left on their Thanksgiving vacations before Sharon sent Morse and Betty to get Bucky’s things. All of his belongings fit into a couple of Steve’s suitcases, but the three of them didn’t get started for Camp David until nightfall.

“I need to know if you’re going to be there in a professional or personal capacity,” May murmured as they loaded the car. She didn’t speak with the same vitriol that she had after first finding out about the affair. He suspected it was because she saw the relationship as an opportunity to further protect the First Lady.

Bucky glanced at her. “Guess I can’t be both anymore, can I.”

She didn’t shake her head, but the way she glanced at him implied the same gesture. “Technically, you shouldn’t be allowed in a professional capacity anyway.”

“But you want people on the perimeter.”

She didn’t nod, either, but he still understood.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Mostly personal,” he confirmed. “But put the people on perimeter that you need. I’ll be with them most of the time, and Sharon knows about the threats.”

“And the President?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ll ask her. And if not, I’ll explain that I’m pulling double-duty to help protect her. He won’t complain about her having more protection.”

“She will.”

Bucky nodded grimly. “But she’s up against two of us now.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Damn it, had that come out wrong? “I mean. He’s good at convincing her of things, and I can be stubborn. We’ll get through to her.”

There was a hint of a smirk as May left his side to get behind the steering wheel. Morse got in beside her, leaving the three of them to have some degree of privacy in the back. If May and Morse were worried the three of them would have romantic or uncomfortable conversations, they needn’t have bothered; Steve was asleep before they hit the highway, and Sharon, her cheek resting on Steve’s shoulder, followed soon after.

* * *

She woke to Bucky gently shaking her shoulder and quietly explaining that they’d arrived at Camp David. She growled and rubbed sleep out of her eyes. She could have used another couple of hours.

Steve read her mind. “We’ve got three whole days.”

“Remember when we were kids, and Thanksgiving holidays lasted all week?”

He turned his head to kiss her cheek. “If we can get maternity leave and pass some more workers’ right’s bills, maybe we can tackle Thanksgiving holiday bills...”

Sharon sighed. Pass more bills? They’d have to pass _any._ The inspirational speech he’d given about Congress’s lack of action had come to nothing. More people were interested in calling into talent shows than nagging their legislators. All it had really done was pull the rug out from under the scandal of Steve cheating on her, and the news media still talked about that more than Congress’s inaction. The midterms had led to the same legislators being elected as had held office before.

She moved to open the door, only to find that Bucky had opened it first and was peering into the shadows around them. “You know you’re not Secret Service anymore, right?” The cold air bit at her nose and ears.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still keep an eye on things.” He let May take the lead into the house and brought up Sharon’s rear.

She looked at him archly over her shoulder, but he was more intent on their surroundings than anything else. He still, however, managed to guide her around a snow bank because she was too busy looking at him to see it. “I hate snow,” she muttered.

“Unless we get snowed in,” Steve said cheerfully. There was an undertone of grimness, though. Steve didn’t like the cold anymore than she did. He’d spent too many winters growing up with a variety of illnesses and no heat.

At Camp David, though, the heat welcomed her into Aspen Lodge, and she sighed in relief. Abe was already there, playing cards with Barton as Rumlow looked on. Sam slept on the couch, a clipboard and his notes on his chest.

“This man cheats,” Abe announced as soon as they walked in.

“Or you just stink at playing poker,” Barton replied. He nodded toward the kitchen. “Chef prepared dinner. Abe and Sam wanted to wait for you before eating.”

Sharon started to peel off her coat, then turned as Steve gestured to let him do it. “What’s for dinner?”

Steve eased her jacket off her shoulders and hung it up beside his, then turned to help Bucky, who had already removed his coat. He turned away and rubbed his hands together.

“No clue, but I’m ready to eat.” Barton leaned over and jostled Sam. “Wilson! They’re here!”

Dinner, it turned out, was some sort of kosher meat that Steve seemed to enjoy more than she did. If meat wasn’t in a burger or a sloppy joe, she didn’t much see the point. Of course, it _did_ taste amazing, and part of her was sad that she and Steve would soon have to cook for themselves again. It was gratifying, however, to see Sam and Abe try to include Bucky in the conversation as Barton ate noisily just out of sight in the kitchen.

They retired to bed almost immediately, and it wasn’t her imagination that Bucky kept glancing at her, furtive glances that she knew she was supposed to understand but didn’t. She took a quick shower, changed into her nightgown, and then frowned when he continued to glance at her. Finally, when Steve was in the shower, she grated, “What?”

“Did you tell Steve about the threat to your lives?”

She rolled her lives. “That there’s a government conspiracy to have us killed? No, I didn’t. I figured he had other things on his mind and a protective detail. Why burden him with more?”

Bucky took a deep breath through his nose. “Well, the reason we don’t have another agent in my old bedroom is because I’m here.”

“‘Old bedroom?'” she repeated.

He had the decency to look abashed. “I’d like to sleep in here. No sex. Just making sure you two are safe.”

Her frown deepened. “Bucky, are you sure you aren’t just being paranoid?”

“Even if I did - which I don’t - I definitely don’t want to find out the hard way.”

She looked at the bed. It was big enough for three - she supposed she should have realized Steve was poly from how much he liked big beds. Or was that not a thing? It wasn’t as if Bucky had never seen her sleep, either. She’d just... never slept with him in the same bed before. “How would it work?”

“Us on the outside, you on the inside.”

She lifted an eyebrow. That reply had come rather quickly. Glancing at him, she saw he had his game face on. He really wasn’t after sex, from her or from Steve. “Fine, I guess.”

“And we need to tell Steve about the threats.”

“Assuming he hasn’t already figured it out. He isn’t stupid, you know.” She went around to her side of the bed and crawled in, automatically curling up within reach of the bedside table. Then, remembering, she scooted toward the middle. “I don’t need this extra protection, you know.”

“I know. I need to know you have it, though.”

She made a face. If she weren’t so tired, she’d put up more of a fight. As it was, she stayed awake long enough to watch him lock the door to the connected room and close the blinds.

* * *

Steve dried his hair with the towel, naked save for pajama bottoms. If he’d meant to seduce one or both of them tonight, it was obviously to no avail. Sharon was asleep in the middle of the bed, and Bucky was dressed for sleep and standing at Sharon’s usual side of the bed. Steve looked from Bucky to Sharon and back again. “What’s going on?”

“Safety precaution.” Bucky’s eyes flicked to the connecting door. “May isn’t putting another agent in there because I’m here. Either way, I’d wind up here. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He almost said “If it’s okay with Sharon,” but she was already deep asleep, which probably meant it was just fine with her. She wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the middle of the bed otherwise. He nodded. “What side do you want?” His cheeks warmed as he realized that he’d just said that for the first time.

From the way Bucky was looking at him, Bucky knew it, too. For now, though, he only waved a hand at Sharon’s side. “This one will do.”

Steve nodded and climbed in on the other side. Sharon stirred and resettled. “You need the lights on?” Again, a new question. He found he liked asking questions, liked finding out what Bucky preferred.

“No, you two need sleep.”

“So do you.”

Bucky grinned. “I’ll sleep once I’m sure you two are okay.”

Steve shrugged and rolled over to turn off the light. When he turned back, he lay a hair’s breath away from Sharon.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we can ask for some time together tomorrow. I’ll make sure someone’s looking out for her, and then- I know, we’ll have to use the other bedroom, but-”

Steve grinned in the darkness. “I’d like that.”

Just as he liked waking up the next day to find Bucky sprawled across the bed. Evidently, he was more of a snuggler than either him or Sharon, and one leg was thrown carelessly over both of them. He was half on top of Sharon, his nose against her neck.

She, too, was awake, and she looked at Steve and rolled her eyes. She seemed just as content to let Bucky sleep as Steve was, though, so he merely moved closer and kissed her forehead. It was another hour before he tickled her enough to wake Bucky, though, and Bucky sprang off the bed and stood at attention while Steve laughed and Sharon grinned and buried her face in Steve’s chest.

It wasn’t an arrangement that offered opportunities for sex, but Steve found he didn’t mind not getting any. It was the first time the three of them had shared a bed, the first time he got to wake up with the two of them beside him, and he’d never felt better.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very nearly left the last chapter on a bit of a cliff-hanger but decided I couldn't do that to you. Not just because it would have split the narrative and would have confused people not reading back-to-back, but because I'm nice like that.
> 
> (Lol. It was because it broke up the narrative.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky held an Army stance to the side of the stage as Steve spoke at the microphone. Christmas decorations sparkled on the tables; garlands hung from the ceilings. He had to admit, traveling with Steve and Sharon had its advantages. He never could have gotten into the place otherwise. As it was, he still wasn’t technically “with” them. He would sit with Sharon’s staff while Steve and Sharon would sit at the head table. Personally, he couldn’t wait. His current company was grating on his last nerve.

“You fuck that, Barnes?” Rumlow murmured beside him.

Bucky ignored him. Rumlow had been saying such things for weeks now, always when no one else was around. Or at least, not anyone else that could do anything about it.

“Just asking how you do it. Does he top? Do you? You can tell me, Barnes. I won’t tell. Can you even take his cock, or do you just suck him off? Bet he likes it rough.” Rumlow chuckled to himself. “Chains and shit. You know what they say about people in power. They get off on giving up control. You’re probably cheaper than a dominatrix. Hell, the First Lady is too much of a fucking ice queen to be any use there, you know? Probably only does missionary or some boring shit like that.”

His shoulders tensed, but Bucky forced himself to stay still. No movement, no twitch, no sign that he was perturbed. Rumlow was trying to get under his skin and had been trying to do so since news broke of the affair. Maybe a little before, perhaps, but no more than he’d tried to get under anyone’s skin. Now, though, Bucky was his favorite target.

“What’s the matter, Barnes? Don’t want to share? Speaking of, you ever share the First Lady with the President? Like, I know she says she’s cool with you two, but come on. Cunt like that doesn’t like going empty.”

Bucky betrayed himself by glaring at him, and Rumlow smiled widely.

“Wanna hit me, Barnes? Give it a go. Assaulting a Secret Service agent is almost guaranteed to get you thrown in prison, President’s bitch or not. You think you can get away with it because he licks your dick?”

“Maybe he can’t,” a voice said from behind Bucky, and something in Bucky’s stomach dropped. “But I can.”

* * *

Sharon groaned loudly as the news replayed the clip of her punching Rumlow. After the altercation, May and Barton had ordered everyone back to their cars and then straight to the White House. All in all, the Christmas dinner had turned out to be something of a bust.

Steve sighed and looked at Sam. “What are we looking at here? Can they sue?”

“Civil case,” Barton said from the wall. “Coulson said it would look bad if the Secret Service sues the First Lady. It also looks bad if we can’t take a punch from a girl.” He nodded to Sharon as she straightened to glare at him. “Ma’am. A big girl, of course.”

Sharon glowered at him and sank back into the chair. “I would have punched him just fine if Bucky hadn’t tried to stop me,” she griped.

“He was trying to get you out of harm’s way,” May said firmly. “Which is exactly what he was supposed to do. Protect your person. Which includes your reputation.”

Daisy came in with ice packs and handed them to Steve, who pressed one against Sharon’s hand and another against her knee.

Sharon flinched. “My knuckles are fine. It was a clean hit.” Her expression soured. “It _would_ have been.”

Steve sighed. Sharon didn’t like to be thought of as weak, and now here she was, in a room full of people who had just watched her be protected after she’d attacked a Secret Service agent. “I know. And everyone here knows you could have pummeled Rumlow.”

Her face softened. “ _Maybe_ he had more training than I do,” she grudgingly admitted. “A little.”

The door opened, and Coulson entered, followed closely by Bucky. “And anger to back it up. His insulting you like that afterward is not what the Secret Service is about.” He looked back at Bucky, who stood as much at attention as Steve had ever seen. “Rumlow has been let go from the Service. He won’t be bothering you again.”

Sharon looked between Coulson and Bucky. “It’s not as if I’ve never been called a bitch before.”

Coulson gave her a tiny grin that didn’t indicate amusement whatsoever. “He’s no longer welcome in the Service, Ma’am. I thought you should hear it with me.”

Trip stepped forward. “Would it help if she issued an apology?”

Sharon’s jaw dropped. The only time Steve had seen her look more betrayed was when she’d discovered him and Bucky together. “ _Trip._ ”

Trip shook his head. “Nope. You don’t get to use that tone with me. You just punched a Secret Service agent at a Christmas dinner that doubled as a party fundraiser. You’re lucky Christine’s on a plane from Antigua that won’t land for another fourteen hours, or you’d be dealing with her right now.”

“And that’s another thing I don’t like,” Coulson said, voice as calm as ever. “That cell phone caught the entire fight. Which means whoever filmed it was waiting for something to happen.” He looked to Bucky, but Bucky continued to face straight ahead.

Steve managed to catch Bucky’s eye, and he was surprised to see fear there. Not much, but it was certainly, undeniably there. He cleared his throat. “If everything’s cleared up, then, I think it’s time we called it a night.” He bent and picked up Sharon, bridal-style.

She squeaked. “Fuck, Steve. I can walk! I don’t need you to carry me.”

He smiled at her. “Maybe I need it.”

That got her to quiet down, and his smile softened as she turned her face into his shoulder. “At least walk fast,” she muttered.

“Bucky!” Sam called before they left the room. “Make sure they eat dinner!”

Steve turned to see Bucky closing the door behind him. “You’re one of us, not our babysitter.”

“I’m the most mature one here,” Bucky said, straight-faced. He held up the ice packs Steve hadn’t used. Steve counted them and realized Bucky had the ones from Sharon’s knuckles and knee. She must have stopped using them on the sly, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Okay, point.” He turned and continued onward to their room. An agent he didn’t recognize was outside the door, and Steve greeted him as Bucky moved to open the door for him. It didn’t escape Steve’s notice that Bucky gave the agent an unusually hard lookover. He frowned and set Sharon carefully on her feet.

“So embarrassing,” she muttered, not looking at him.

Steve grinned and kissed her temple. “How about you change into your pajamas? You’re going to have a rough day of it tomorrow.”

She huffed but got one of her nightgowns from its drawer.

He waited until she was in the bathroom before turning to Bucky. “You okay?”

Bucky nodded.

“You sure? Because you looked worried out there.” Not worried. Flat-out scared. But Steve suspected Bucky had pride, too, just like Sharon. He was just better at not letting it get the better of him.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said. He hesitated. “Rumlow tried to bait me into a fight. Enough people verified what happened that they can’t make me leave. And- and Sharon defended my honor.” He breathed a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Which is something I never thought I’d say.”

Steve grinned. “She’s defended mine, too, a couple times. I just don’t tackle her to the ground after.” Well, there’d been the one time, but that was because he’d tripped while carrying her to bed. It didn’t count. “What about the stink-eye you gave the new guard?”

Bucky’s expression turned sour. “Not fond of people I don’t trust right now.”

He moved closer and stroked Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. “Good news, then. You’re with people you can trust.”

Bucky grinned up at him, and Steve bent for a kiss. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s back to pull him closer.

They both paused when they heard Sharon’s groan from the bathroom.

“You okay?” Steve called.

She opened the door and limped out. “Found another sore spot. I think I fell on my hip at some point. Oh. Right. When _somebody_ tackled me. Thanks for that, Bucky.” She looked up and froze when she saw them. “Oh. Um. I can go to the other room? I think I’m going to need to sleep on icepacks anyway.”

Bucky pulled away from Steve and carried an ice pack to Sharon, pressing it gently against her knuckles. “I’d be sorrier if he hadn’t rallied so fast and tried to attack you.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been attacked before.”

“Never like that,” Steve said with a frown. “At least, you better not have been.” Because that meant she hadn’t told him something he’d rather know about. He moved to where her other hand rested against her hip and knelt beside her. “Here?” He pushed the hem of her nightgown upward and studied the red mark tinged with bluish-purple in the center. Gently, he pressed his lips to it. “That better?”

Not hearing a response, he looked up as his thumb ghosted along her skin. “Shar-”

Her eyes were fixed on Bucky, who in turn was looking at Steve, his eyes wide. Feeling brazen, Steve met Bucky’s gaze and kissed Sharon’s hip again, his breath catching as Sharon tugged at his hair. He lifted his eyes to her, stroking the back of her knee with his fingers.

* * *

Oh, fuck. She was _screwed._ One minute she was talking about getting attacked, the next Steve was kissing her bruised hip and Bucky was holding her hand, staring at Steve.

And Steve, the utter and undeniable _asshole,_ was eating it up. He even touched the back of her leg, and he _knew_ she was sensitive there. She’d stopped having tickle fights with him after he’d figured it out.

But it was working. Her breath came a little faster. Her legs trembled until she took a deep breath to steady them. She lost her fingers in Steve’s hair as she tried to maintain control over herself, but he just looked up at her with his pupils larger than usual. The gesture reminded Bucky that she was there, and he looked up at her, too, and she could see a tent in his pants. While they were looking at each other, Steve kissed her hip again, higher this time, and she exhaled quietly.

She tried to think. Yes, she and Bucky had grown more comfortable with each other. Yes, they now slept in the same bed. But they didn’t pretend to love each other. They respected each other. Maybe liked each other, but they didn’t love one another. Except for the way Bucky slept, they were always mindful of each other’s personal space.

Steve kept kissing her hip, gentle touches that were lighter than the way his fingers trailed along her leg, higher and higher.

Bucky’s chest was rising and falling faster than normal, too. She wondered if he was thinking anything like she was.

After several moments, he held up her hand. “Can I?”

She nodded automatically, and he kissed her knuckles. It was light enough that it didn’t wake the pain in the bruise. Her eyes slid toward Steve as he made a sound deep in his throat; he watched them, his erection straining against his pants. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, she thought faintly. He liked watching and being watched. She’d never thought about that. Judging from the heat spreading through her own body, she wasn’t against it, either.

Or was it that he liked watching the people he loved get closer?

Bucky got to his feet, standing much closer to her than he usually would. “Can I?” he asked again, and his voice was rough, rough enough to make her feel a little dizzy.

She nodded, and he carefully cupped her neck and leaned in. The kiss was soft, cautious, even sweet. Good enough to lean into, to steady herself with a careful hand on his hip. Kissing him wasn’t bad, actually. She could see why Steve liked it. He was considerate, wary not to push her too far.

And then she felt Steve move his hand upward, between her legs, and she gasped against Bucky’s mouth. The kiss changed, his tongue hesitantly exploring, gaining confidence as she kissed him back with equal fervor. His hand bunched her hair. She could feel his hardness between them.

She gasped again and tried to pull away, shaking her head. He let go immediately, took a step back. After a moment, he bent over and rested his hands on his knees. Steve’s pants were open, his hand tight around his cock. As Sharon tried to get her breath back, he looked between her and Bucky in confusion, then concern.

She held up a hand. “You work for me,” she managed to get out. “I’m- I’m your boss. Which means there are ethical-” Ethical... Damn it, what was the word? She couldn’t think right now. “Stuff.” She waved a hand in the air, illustrating the stuff in question.

Bucky straightened and shoved his hands in his pocket. “Technically, May still trusts me to help with your security. To protect your person. Part of that means you have to do what I say.” He took a deep breath.

“Oh,” she murmured. That... didn’t seem technically accurate, but even though she could breathe properly again, her brain didn’t seem to be working quite right.

He bent over again, not having regained enough of his composure yet. “I mean, you can give me tasks and an office, but when shit goes down, it’s going to be like the speech earlier. I make sure you’re safe. Which means you doing what I want.”

She cleared her throat. “ _Oh._ ” Her voice sounded odd, and he gave her a funny look.

“Rumlow,” he said awkwardly. “Rumlow said that people in power let go by being told what to do.” He glanced at Steve, still holding himself on the floor, then back to Sharon. “We didn’t talk about this that night, not- not us going this far. But the rules are the same. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. None of us has to do anything that makes us uncomfortable.”

She tapped the hollow of her throat. She couldn’t get over how Steve was watching them, how it made her insides feel warm, her heart pound. “It _was_ an... all right kiss,” she murmured. He grinned at her, and she grinned weakly back.

“Maybe we should see how it works first,” she suggested. She heard Steve exhale thickly. “Before deciding if we have a problem with it.” She stepped closer and unzipped his pants. She hesitated, then cupped him with a hand. She’d never touched anyone’s cock but Steve’s before. “Except for one time, you’ve never let me down,” she told him. “And that one time didn’t turn out to be so bad, I think.” She started to kneel, but Bucky caught her wrist and pulled her up.

“You fell on your knee,” he reminded her.

She made a face. She’d forgotten, damn it. “Wondered why that hurt more than usual.”

He grinned. “Defending my honor, might I add. Which means I should probably treat you properly first.” He bent to pick her up, and Steve chuckled at her embarrassment as Bucky carried her to the bed. He set her down carefully and bent over her for another kiss. “If you ever want me to stop, if you even have doubts,” he murmured, “tell me.”

She nodded, her ability to speak fading again after the kiss, and his eyes shifted to her nightgown.

“Can you pull that up for me?” He looked at her breasts, the thin silk doing nothing to hide how hard her nipples were, and licked his lips. “Or take it off completely?”

Hours later, naked and sore and exhausted, she traced lazy circles on his back as he sprawled across her and an equally naked Steve, whose hand was heavy over one of her breasts. Her knee ached worse than before, but it had been worth it. 

“I could do that again,” she murmured in the darkness. She didn’t know if either of them were awake, but she heard each of them grunt in response.

“You might want to after Christine gets in,” Bucky drawled. “Sounds like you’re going to need some pampering after that.”

She’d sighed. She’d actually forgotten that she was First Lady for a while. And now she was thinking of all she had to do in the morning. God, she hoped she didn’t walk funny. That was the last thing she needed.

“If you two want to keep getting close on your own,” Steve said slowly, “I’m okay with it. Just don’t leave me behind.”

She reached out to stroke his hair. “We’ll give you a play-by-play after.”

“We’ll reenact it for you,” Bucky chimed in.

She lightly smacked where she thought his ass was. “Kiss-ass.”

He squirmed on top of her. “You can kiss it anytime.”

She grinned, and silence fell again. After a moment, she heard Steve’s deep breathing that meant he’d fallen asleep. “You know,” she said softly. “Rumlow was talking smack about me, too.”

“Details,” Bucky said drowsily.

In the darkness, her fingers found his. She didn’t take hold of his hand, just rested them so that they lightly touched.

Okay. So she liked her husband’s lover. Mistress. Boyfriend. Whatever. And yes, she was going to get yelled at in the morning for punching a federal employee who knew how to use a gun and knew all of the First Family’s safety protocols.

But right now, as their sweat cooled on their skins, she felt pretty good about how the day had gone.


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning, after Steve had kissed them both good-bye before going on his morning run, Bucky turned to Sharon. “How are you feeling?”

She bent her knee experimentally. “Fine. Another day or two, and I won’t notice anything at all. Daisy’s going to freak over finding new clothes for me to wear to events, but I think Hope and Betty will help me find something that isn’t a pantsuit.”

“Maybe you can wear hose?” he suggested, his brow crinkling as he tried to think. He’d never lived with a woman where looks mattered much, but he remembered his mother wearing hose to important functions.

She wrinkled her nose and pulled on a pair of flats. “Maybe.”

Bucky shifted his weight, awkward. “But I meant- Uh... After last night?”

She glanced at him in surprise, then grinned. “What, are you going to make me put an ice pack there, too? What do you think May will do to you if she finds out you broke me?”

He bit his cheek. “That’s not funny,” he muttered. Not least of which because he hadn’t seen her naked enough to take it for granted, and talking about last night was making him want another round.

She stood, and though she moved a little stiffly at first, he couldn’t tell if it was just her knee or not. “Don’t worry, Bucky. I’m no snitch.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You called out Congress on the national news.”

She shrugged. “Okay. So... I won’t snitch on you about this?”

He sighed and shook his head as she continued to get ready. He’d asked her if he could look more at veterans’ affairs to see if she could do more to help them, and after a couple minutes of waiting for her to finish, he sank into a seat to look over some papers. The trick, he thought, was to find a way to get around the lack of funding and the lack of doctors. “Do you think we could do a kind of humanities thing for the VA? Kind of like Doctors Without Borders, but for vets?”

She smiled at him in the mirror as she put on makeup; Bucky still couldn’t believe how much women had to do before they so much as stepped outside. “You can call and find out. It’s not a bad idea, so long as the VA allows it. That’s where you’ll run into trouble.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes. “So talk to the VA first.”

Sharon shook her head. “They’ll shoot you down and you won’t have anything to go to Doctors Without Borders with. First, find out if similar initiatives exist. If so, find a way to make it national. If not, talk to Doctors Without Borders, then line up some other groups. I’d come up with a whole plan first to present to the VA that almost everyone agrees on. Make sure they know it’ll only happen if the VA agrees, and use their agreement to strong-arm the VA into going along with you. If they don’t agree, you haven’t lost anything but your time and effort. If they agree, you’ve got everything in place, and it’s too late for anyone to back out.”

“That doesn’t seem ethical,” Bucky murmured.

“Politics and ethics are the strangest bedfellows in Washington,” she replied.

After she finished getting ready, she sat at the table across from Bucky, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. He knew when she got to the story about herself from how she started muttering darkly under her breath.

“You didn’t need to defend me,” he reminded her.

The dark mutterings stopped. “Rumlow has a punchable face.”

She didn’t say anything more until May came to pick her up, and Bucky fell into step beside her, carrying her folders. He knew she was still upset by the story in the paper when she didn’t even notice.

They could hear Christine arguing with Trip and Coulson before they even got to her hall, and Sharon spun around to face May.

“Okay. I know I punched someone, and that’s bad. But come on. _Save me._ ”

May smirked. “This comes with the job, Ma’am.”

Bucky handed her the stack of folders, taking his off the top before stepping back. “And I don’t think Christine yelling at you will be a bad thing. Builds character, you know?” He looked over her shoulder, saw familiar faces, and held up his folders. “Who wants to help me with these at the other end of the hall?”

Daisy looked at him yearningly, but Betty was by his side in a moment. Hope shook her head and stayed where she was. “What else am I going to watch for entertainment?” she asked. She held up a bowl of popcorn. Evidently, Hope had come prepared.

Sharon took a deep breath. “I’ll remember this when Christmas bonus time comes around,” she warned. Raising her chin, she walked off to face the music.

Bucky hesitated, but May’s shoulders slumped a little. “She’ll be fine,” May said in an undertone. “She chose Everheart to be her press secretary for a reason. They respect each other, they just don’t always show it.”

He still wasn’t convinced, but after a minute of Sharon shouting just as loudly as Christine, he walked down the hall the other way.

* * *

In the end, Sharon had to apologize to the Secret Service and to Brock Rumlow in a released statement, but Christine agreed to bury it as best she could.

She told Steve and Bucky that night that if they wanted to have sex in their bed instead of the First Lady’s bedroom, they could. She confessed she still didn’t want to walk in on them, which they seemed to understand, and they agreed to warn her before they did anything she might be surprised by. And then the three of them made sure their first night together hadn’t been a fluke. She ended up falling asleep with Bucky’s leg by her face.

Bucky and Betty actually made progress on the VA plan, with Betty using her father’s contacts to feel out different administrative officials. They crafted the plan they wanted first, with the two of them calling different agencies to ask for their assistance afterward. They even came up with two backup plans for if they had to compromise.

Sharon realized something had changed when she noticed she was jealous of Betty for spending so much time with him.

She silenced the thought as soon as it occurred. Betty wasn’t romantically interested in Bucky, nor vice versa. Betty still had feelings for some guy she’d gone to school with who was working on a cure for cancer. Thank God for do-gooders like that guy, she supposed.

Valentine’s Day presented an entanglement. If the three of them went out together, it could potentially cause a scene, and would certainly get the press involved. There’d been a spike in interest around the relationship after Sharon had punched Rumlow, and though Sharon still felt it had been worth it, she had to admit that dealing with the fallout was bothersome.

In the end, they treated themselves to a small, fancy dinner for the three of them in the West Wing’s dining room. Sharon woke halfway through the night and felt more than a little guilty that she and Steve fell asleep almost immediately after dinner, but then she realized she’d been woken up by Bucky snoring as he spread across them, still fully-clothed, and didn’t feel so bad.

They spent Spring Break at Camp David, with Barton staying the night in the connecting room and begging them not to be too loud, but the three of them were set to part ways after the stay at Camp David. Steve had to go to a summit in Europe and would then go on a tour to the Midwest to meet with contractors for a pipeline he didn’t support, and Sharon had been booked on a humanitarian circuit to discuss the importance of healthcare and the options available to people. Though they weren’t looking forward to being apart, they were looking forward to getting away from Washington for a while.

“You didn’t even _try_ to be quiet,” Barton complained the last morning.

Only Steve had the decency to look embarrassed. Sharon looked smug; Bucky flicked a strawberry at him.

* * *

Steve, Sam, and Abe sat in a coffee shop in Iowa, customers giving them a wide berth while also staring them down.

“Remember campaigning here?” Abe said, huddled over his coffee. It was March, and the nights were still chilly.

“I’d never had so much butter in my life, nor have I had so much butter since.” The thought of the butter cow made Steve set his coffee on the table. It had taken him months before he could eat the damn stuff again.

Abe grinned. “I just asked if it was kosher. Not many people asked me to eat anything after that.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Me and my damned Catholicism.”

Sam stared into his cup. “I should have tried that. Kosher. I could have so many fewer regrets.”

Abe chuckled and took another sip of his coffee.

It was already halfway through before Steve knew it had begun. There was a loud sound; his ear and face hurt. There were screams, people were grabbing at him. It took him a minute to realize that it was Barton and Sam. He looked around for Abe. There was smoke, debris. And Abe on the floor, gasping for breath. His face was bloody; there was a shard of glass in his hand. Steve shouted something, or he tried to. He didn’t know. He thought he heard gunshots. Abe looked at him, tapped his chest over his heart twice before giving him a tremulous smile, and then started to crawl.

And then he was too far away to see, Barton and Sam shoving him out of the back of the restaurant. The ringing in Steve’s ears faded. He couldn’t make out individual words, but he knew Barton was snapping orders.

Barton led the way out the back, his gun drawn. Steve couldn’t tell if he’d gone deaf or if it was just that quiet outside the restaurant. “Fast. Straight for the corn. Get in. Wait for me.”

Sam nodded, taking point and pushing Steve to sprint across the field.

Once hidden in the corn, Steve stared at Sam. “What just happened?” he demanded. “What just- Abe is still-” He heard more gunshots and froze.

“That’ll be the witnesses,” Barton said as he joined them, his tone grim. “Give me your phones.” Automatically, Steve handed his over, only to watch Barton crush it under his boot, along with Sam’s. Before he could protest, Barton said, “Move.”

Steve’s heart was in this throat, but he ran. “What about Abe?” he demanded.

“Sir, Dr. Erskine took a shard of glass to the neck, another to an artery in his arm, and those were just the big ones that I could make out. If they didn’t just shoot him, he’s gonna bleed out slow.”

“ _Dude,_ ” Sam snapped.

Barton took a breath. “Sorry. No time for civilities. That was an assassination attempt. Our priority is to get the President to safety. And that’s where we run into a big problem.”

“Which is?” Sam asked, still angry about how Barton had talked about Abe.

“Some of the Secret Service agents stationed outside were taking shots at the President.”

Steve reeled. “The- Barton.”

Barton shrugged. “I saw what I saw, sir, and I’m willing to bet that they’re the ones who just got rid of the witnesses.” He paused. “They wouldn’t have made Dr. Erskine feel pain, sir. I know it’s not much, but it’s something.”

Steve doubled over. Abe. God _damn_ it.

“What code was that?” Barton continued. “The chest-tap thing?”

“Heart. He tapped his heart. It’s a reminder to be a good man.” He couldn’t even cry. He was too bewildered to cry. He bit his lip. “Sharon,” he realized. “Bucky. If the Secret Service killed Abe-” Which still sounded surreal, but if it was _true..._

“I sent a message to May and Coulson, sir. We’ve got to get you to a safe house.”

Sam glared at Barton. “One the Secret Service doesn’t know about.”

“What am I, an idiot? Yeah. May and I have a place in mind. The trick is going to be getting you there.”

Steve swallowed. He didn’t care so much about that. He cared that Sharon and Bucky were in danger. He cared that the closest thing he had to a father was dead. He cared about whether he’d be able to keep it together long enough to find out what the hell was going on.

Barton was watching him, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was looking for leadership or not. He’d made a promise to make Abe proud. He wouldn’t keep it by falling apart now. Steve took a deep breath, then another, and gradually the shaking in his hands calmed. “Let’s go,” he said.


	21. Chapter 21

Bucky knew Sharon didn’t like to be held when she slept. Steve had told him about it ages ago. But Bucky latched onto people in his sleep, regardless. It had led to some awkwardness in the army, that was for sure, but he couldn’t help it. Fortunately, Sharon hadn’t punched him in her sleep yet, though he’d woken twice in the past few weeks to find her trying to shove him out of bed while still asleep. She’d stopped once he’d moved to Steve’s side, and the next time he’d woken up on top of her, she’d done nothing.

Some people were just weird that way, he guessed.

He blinked in the darkness, his senses going on high alert as he wondered what had woken him. Sharon, of course, slept like a log, and for someone who didn’t like to cuddle was curled up beside him. She wouldn’t have woken him. And he’d grown accustomed to hotel sounds on the tour. They wouldn’t set off his internal alarms.

“Barnes.”

It was so quiet, he nearly missed it. He turned his head to see May standing several feet from the bed and sat up. “May?”

“There was an assassination attempt on the President. We’re going Omega. Have her ready to leave in five minutes.”

He nodded, but she was already gone. Quickly, he turned and jostled Sharon awake. He didn’t have to wonder why May left the task to him; Sharon was notoriously grumpy when woken up. Even now, with her eyes half-open as she looked around in a daze, she looked like she was gearing up for a fight.

He got out of bed to put some distance between them, just in case. “Steve was attacked. May said it was an assassination attempt. We still have to get you to safety. You have four minutes to get ready.” The First Lady always traveled with an emergency bag, something to grab and go if there was any sign of trouble. He’d tucked it beside her regular luggage in the closet. His own suitcase would double as one; he packed light and carried only the necessities.

Sharon sat in bed, blinking at him.

With an impatient sigh, he grabbed some of her clothes and motioned for her to stand up. “You’ve got cosmetics in your bag, so don’t worry about that right now.” He pulled the long sweater over her head, and she automatically wiggled to get her arms into the sleeves. The movement seemed to help her wake up, and she pulled on her jeans as he pulled out socks and shoes for them both and hurriedly dressed himself.

“My nightgown-”

“Tuck it into the jeans,” he ordered. “How you look doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting you to safety.”

She fumbled with the laces on her shoes. “You said Steve-”

“Was involved in an assassination attempt.” He bent in front of her to tie her laces for her, then helped her to her feet. “I don’t know anything more than that.” He handed her the suitcase and emergency bag. “I need you to hold those, and I need you to stay close to me, all right?”

Pale, she took hold of suitcase and bag and nodded.

He peered through the keyhole and saw the back of Morse’s head. He rapped his knuckles against the door, and she turned and gave the all-clear sign. “Stay close,” he repeated to Sharon. Opening the door, he looked both ways and nodded to Morse. Bucky had studied security for the hotel, but not to the extent Morse had. She led them down hallways and stairways, more hallways and back areas that the tourists wouldn’t be privy to. The convoluted trail was to keep anyone from following them and to keep their eventual destination a mystery.

They left out the side exit, the security light blown out, and Sharon instinctively moved closer to Bucky. Three cars waited, and May opened the back door to one. He shoved Sharon in with more haste than care and turned to May.

Evidently, his standing there wasn’t what she wanted. “Get in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Once in, the door locked behind him, May got in the driver’s seat. One word into a comm, and all three cars sped off at once. As they drove away, Bucky saw that three cars, most of them unmarked police calls from local law enforcement, had been parked at each entrance, and now all of them were driving in different directions. If someone wanted to hunt down Sharon, they’d have to guess which car she was in. He nodded in satisfaction.

“May.” He’d never heard fear in Sharon’s voice before, and his hand found hers in the darkness, clutching it.

“I don’t know anything, Ma’am. All your staff are safe. Betty and Hope have secure locations for them set up. Hope mentioned showing them around Hawaii.”

“But Steve? Steve’s staff?”

In the rearview mirror, Bucky saw May frown. “I’ll let you know when we hear anything. Best get some sleep while you can.”

As endless sea of desert passed them by, lit only faintly by the moon, Bucky moved closer to Sharon and wrapped an arm around her. Around them, cars turned off at various points. May turned onto a residential street and kept going.

“Can we turn on the radio?” Sharon asked.

May glanced back at her. “It would be better if you slept.”

Bucky felt Sharon tense. He didn’t try to soothe her; he understood what May was saying. She didn’t want Sharon to hear over the radio whether or not Steve had been killed.

“May. Turn on the radio. _Now._ ”

May turned her eyes back to the road and did nothing. 

After over a minute, Sharon settled next to Bucky again, her face pallid and her eyes wide. She knew why May didn’t want her to hear the radio, too. Bucky stroked her arm, trying to soothe her, but the way she didn’t try to push him away made him worry more. She didn’t accept physical affection unless she needed it or thought the other person needed it.

Shortly before dawn, May stopped at a gas station, parking next to an empty car. “Transfer,” she told Bucky.

Understanding, he grabbed their bags and tossed them into the other car. After making sure the coast was clear, he helped Sharon move to the other car.

As soon as he was in the car, she huddled against him again, and he wrapped an arm around her. “You need to sleep,” he murmured.

“Not until I know about Steve,” she snapped.

He couldn’t argue with her on that point. He didn’t want to sleep until he knew what had happened, either. He must have drifted off at some point, though, because he and Sharon both startled awake when May stopped. She’d parked behind a barn, and Bucky could see nothing but fields in any direction.

“I need a catnap,” May explained. “The house should be empty if you need a bathroom. I’ll be ready to go again in twenty.”

Bucky nodded and helped Sharon out of the car, keeping a gun in one hand and her hand in the other. As May had said, the house was empty, and he stood watch as Sharon used the bathroom. It was trickier figuring out how to keep an eye on her while he was in the bathroom, though. 

In the end, she stood against the door, her back to him. “You’re paranoid. You know that?”

“It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you,” he reminded her, and then he took her hand again to lead her outside.

“I didn’t hear you wash those.”

He sighed and quickly ran his hands under the tap before wiping them on his pants and taking her hand again.

She made a face but evidently decided not to pursue the matter. “Is May even human?” she murmured.

“May puts other people first,” Bucky said as they rounded the corner of the barn. “Right now, you’re her priority. She’ll act human again when she knows your safe.”

Back on the road, it took hours for Sharon to drift into a restless, uneasy sleep that was broken by every pothole or loud car that passed.

“Both of you are a priority,” May said quietly.

He looked at her curiously in the rear-view.

“If something happens to either of you, there’s no telling how the President will respond. Thus, you’re both a priority.” She frowned, but there was dark amusement in her expression. “You’re an honorary spouse.”

Bucky would have spoken aloud, but he was afraid of waking Sharon. Instead, he hoped that “honorary spouse” wasn’t his official title among the Secret Service and went back to looking out the window. Desert had given way to trees at some point. If he’d been remotely interested in trees, he would have loved it. As it was, he didn’t give a shit. He needed to know that Steve was safe, needed to know Sharon was safe. He needed sleep. He needed to know what was going on.

The sun was low in the sky and setting fast when May pulled off the highway. Sharon leaned forward wordlessly, her eyes fixed on the surrounding countryside. She got tenser the longer they went, and Bucky was just about to urge her to relax when May turned off the street.

Sharon jumped forward. “You _didn’t._ ”

May didn’t look at her. “It’s not affiliated with the Secret Service. Everyone knows you hate it and simply haven’t gotten around to burning it down yet. It’s one of the most secure locations for you there is.”

“You. _Didn’t._ ”

Bucky stared at them in incomprehension, then leaned forward to peer out the windshield as a two-story brick mansion came into sight. The yard was cultivated with care, the windows gleaming. The front porch was even swept clean. It looked like the sort of house royalty would use if they were trying to live like common people.

May drove around the house and parked in the back, and neither of them were fast enough to stop Sharon from jumping out. May relaxed when she saw Sharon run for a door. “I was afraid she might head for the hills,” she admitted.

“What the hell _is_ this place?” Bucky asked, grabbing their bags and glancing worriedly after Sharon.

“Where she grew up. Welcome to the Carter Estate, Barnes.”

* * *

She didn’t look around as she heard them come in, too busy trying to navigate the television remote control with trembling fingers. She’d budgeted for the house to be looked after, Nick had made sure of that after her parents died, and that meant that the damn piece of crap ought to have cable. She exhaled as she found a news station and stared at it, her attention rapt.

And... nothing. No mention of Steve. No mention of an assassination attempt.

She wheeled on May. “You said someone tried to kill him. Why aren’t they talking about it?” she demanded.

May crossed her arms. As tired as Sharon was, May had to feel worse. Right now, though, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but Steve and whether he was okay. “Barton got a message to me when it happened. The President and Wilson made it out. He said-” She swallowed and pursed her lips together. “He said Secret Service agents took part in the attack.”

Bucky’s face turned ashen, and Sharon knew she should care more. The Secret Service turning against the President was something she should note. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t because she noticed the name missing from May’s list. “What about Abe?”

May pursed her lips together.

“ _May._ What about Abe?”

“Barton said Dr. Erskine was down.”

She pressed a hand over her mouth to smother the sound that came out. Weakness, especially in this place, was unacceptable. But she couldn’t help being weak from time to time, and if she couldn’t be weak now, when would she be allowed? Her husband was missing, being hunted by the people who had sworn to protect him. The man who had acted as a surrogate father to him, the man who had become a father-in-law to her, was dead. She’d known Abe for over a decade. Almost every Thanksgiving had been with him. They’d exchanged gifts for Hannukah and Christmas.

She stumbled into the other room, closing the door behind her before she sank to her knees. She didn’t cry, though, not really. Tears slid out, but there was no sound, no wailing. No rending of hair or beating of breast. She could only stare at the carpet she hadn’t seen in years, trying to comprehend what made no sense.

At some point, she was aware of someone trying to pick her up, and she pushed and shoved at them until they covered her with a blanket instead. There was a warm, solid presence beside her, and she slowly realized it was Bucky. Bucky, who was the only person here who knew what it would feel like to lose Steve as opposed to the President. Bucky, who would also cry for what Abe’s loss would mean to Steve.

Carefully, she rested her head against his shoulder. Too slowly, she fell asleep.

* * *

Steve was almost certain his feet were bleeding. He couldn’t feel his blisters anymore. On the other hand, they’d walked through most of the night and had slept in a barn for most of the day, taking turns at standing guard. At no point had he taken off his shoes. Given how bad his feet must smell by now, maybe he should never take them off.

He had always wanted to be a soldier when he was growing up. Now that he was living like so many soldiers had before, he was cursing his childhood stupidity.

“We’re not going to walk the whole way, are we?” Sam complained.

Barton didn’t even turn, busy surveying the landscape. There were still too many corn fields for Steve’s liking. He found he hated corn even more than he hated butter. “Nope.” 

After more silence, Steve and Sam glanced at each other.

“Knowing the plan would help.” Steve’s voice was firm.

Barton sighed. “I’m getting you to the First Lady’s place.”

Steve frowned at him. “The apartment?” Barton shook his head, and Steve whistled. “Bet she didn’t approve that one,” he told Sam.

“Wait. The _mansion?_ ” Sam asked.

Barton nodded, and Steve whistled again.

“I’ve heard of that place. Never seen it though. Heard she was looking to sell.”

“Rumor,” Steve said. “She hates the place, yeah, but it’s still her family’s place. Plus, the place is... she called it ‘a little bit booby-trapped.’”

“Booby-trapped,” Barton repeated.

Steve nodded, grateful for the break from walking that the conversation afforded them. “Almost her entire family went into spying or international diplomacy. Some of them were more paranoid than others. She told me that there were some parts of the estate where no one was allowed to go because some ancestor or another had booby-trapped the place too well. It’s a big part of why she didn’t want to sell the place. Plus, selling the house would have put it in the news, and people don’t like to elect millionaires. They want people like them. That estate is a millionaire’s estate.”

Barton gave a low whistle. “Not sure May knew about the booby-traps.”

“Sharon will tell her about them, I’m sure,” Steve said.

Barton took a breath and pointed east. “Okay. Here’s the plan, such as it is. I’ll be honest with you. We weren’t prepared for our own turning on us. So. We go that way. We walk until we can steal a car. Then we steal more cars until we get to Virginia. We get to May. We come up with a better plan. One where we’re sure you’re safe.”

Steve frowned and looked west. Abe was out there somewhere. He wasn’t entirely sure of the exact direction, or the exact distance. After a moment, he turned back. “Good enough a plan for me,” he said.

They started walking again.

“Wait,” Sam exclaimed. “Sharon’s a _millionaire?_ ”


	22. Chapter 22

Sharon woke the next morning feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all. Her body ached, and with Bucky’s jacket around her along with his arm, she was burning up. And yet, she didn’t move for fear of waking him. He needed sleep just as badly as she did, and she could appreciate the comfort he was trying to offer her.

She blinked at the room around her, reflecting again on how much she hated this place. As a child, she’d loved nothing more than to run through the halls and pretend to fight imaginary bad guys. It was considered a Carter family tradition to go into espionage. Whether there was war or peace, Carters were in the thick of it. Sharon had known more ways to kill someone with her bare hands by the age of ten than most people knew in their lifetimes. For the Carters who weren’t spies, there was always international diplomacy. Working in embassies across the world, keeping up to date on all the latest developments.

But always from the shadows. Other than Sharon, the only Carter who’d ever been in the spotlight was her Aunt Peggy. Peggy had been the first one to decide that she could do more good showing her face to the public - and hiding it when necessary - than she could in the shadows. Sharon had never known her particularly well as a young child, but as she’d gotten older and come to appreciate what that one action meant, she’d come to respect the woman. She’d read up on her, done her research, and had finally broken down in high school and secretly called her aunt, the black sheep of the family, to talk about career options. After the falling-out with her parents, Peggy and Nick had become her family, and the Carter lineage had two black sheep.

Peggy would probably hate this place, too.

Sharon saw May curled up on a chair nearby. Even in her sleep, May looked worn down. And no wonder; the woman had been up nearly two days straight, maybe longer.

She crawled out from under Bucky’s arm, only to find him wide awake and staring at her as soon as she moved. “Go back to sleep,” she murmured. “You need it.”

And that noise alone woke May. Sharon sighed. “Both of you go back to sleep?”

May glowered at her.

“Fine, fine. Let me tell you about the booby traps, then, so you don’t get yourselves killed. And keep in mind, I don’t know about them all.”

“Booby traps?” Bucky echoed.

She shrugged. “I come from a family of spies. The ones that get old enough to retire sometimes get... paranoid.” She led the way into the kitchen and studied the cabinet before pulling out some coffee.

“I didn’t think this place would be so well-maintained,” May admitted. “Or still have food.”

“An unkempt lawn attracts the wrong kind of attention.” She set the coffee maker up. “And a couple other people have permission to use the home if they need it.” Catching May’s alarmed and irritated look, she said, “Don’t worry. If they wanted me dead, they’d have done it ages ago.”

While the coffee maker all-too-slowly worked its magic, she pulled a piece of paper from a drawer and grabbed a pen, sketching a layout of the landscape. “The graveyard is here. Each grave has a small explosive on top, but they can only be set off from the house. That way, enemy agents can’t use the gravestones for cover.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “What kind of fucking booby traps does this place _have?_ ” he demanded.

“Paranoid spies,” she reminded him. “And I don’t know if you noticed, but my family’s kind of rich. We could have been vigilantes in New York, but no. We just _had_ to go nuts about spy stuff. Which reminds me.” She blacked out a corner of the property. “Do _not_ go to Grunkle Harrison’s plot. One person died there about thirty years ago and the person with them got sent to the hospital. I’m still not sure if they got all the shrapnel out. But Grunkle Harrison wasn’t just paranoid, he was mean.”

“And who was Grunkle Harrison?” May asked.

“My dad’s great-great uncle. Maybe great-great-great. He was a spy during the Civil War. Virginia saw a lot of fighting back then, and he figured anyone who fought on the property deserved to die.”

May looked at Bucky, and he nodded.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going there,” Bucky said. “We convince any enemy agents to go there, and Grunkle Harrison might take them out for us.”

She made a face. “Right. If you’re going to ignore everything I’m telling you...” She started to crumple the map, but Bucky stayed her hand.

“We need to know.”

Ugh. That was true enough, at least. Grudgingly, she smoothed the map out and continued. “There shouldn’t be any traps in the house, since none of the adults could tell where the kids might go. We were... more inquisitive than they liked.” She ignored Bucky’s snort. “I know the place got a security upgrade after my parents died, but I’m not sure what.” Except for keeping track of finances and taxes, she hadn’t particularly cared about the place. If she’d known she would have to take refuge here one day, she would have done things differently. “Nick would know,” she said after a moment. She glanced at May. “There should be burner phones tucked away somewhere.”

She looked hesitant. “Give me one,” May said at last. “If someone overhears your voice, we’re in trouble.”

Sharon searched through the kitchen drawers, then the fridge, then the butler’s pantry, finally finding a bag of burner phones. She punched in Nick’s number, caught May’s look, and tossed the phone to the other woman.

“And where’s the safest place for you?” May asked. “Which room?”

Sharon sighed. She’d known this would happen sooner or later, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. “The cellar. My great-grandparents put in some safe rooms. Panic rooms.”

“Panic rooms,” Bucky repeated. “Sharon, I’ve got to say. I kind of like your family.”

She glared at him, then moved to the back of the pantry. She was out of practice, so it took her a couple tries to release the latch, but eventually the back of the wall swayed open to reveal a narrow stairway running into the ground. “It has a generator. Canned food. Couple bedrooms, if I remember.” She shrugged. “I haven’t been down there since I was a kid.” Playing hide-and-go-seek with some distant cousins. They’d been ordered to stop going down there after one of them had found a jar eyeballs that one of her ancestors had kept as momentos. She’d snuck back down once and found a collection of left hands in a suitcase. All in all, the place was going to keep archaeologists busy one day.

May studied the stairwell. “You’re going down there now.” She moved in front of Sharon and drew her gun. “Stay behind me.”

Sharon sighed. She hated this place, hated being protected. It was only right that the two went hand in hand.

Bucky fell into step behind her. “Any guns?”

“You’re joking, right?” At the bottom of the stairwell, she turned into the first room on the right, ignoring May’s order not to, and pointed at the wall. “This is the room that gives the best coverage of that cellar door, but each room here has a selection. Not sure about the ammo, though. It should be...” She bent and slid open a door at the bottom. “There.” There were some boxes, and she saw some of it was new. Nick had done a better job of keeping the place stocked than she had.

Bucky stood beside her and gaped. “That’s an Uze.”

“I like the Uze,” Sharon agreed. “But I prefer the FNP-45.”

He grinned and selected one of the rifles, checking its weight and scope. “This’ll do.”

May looked at the bed shoved against the far wall. Studying the door, she nodded as she saw the lock. “The room will do, too. Stay here, close the door behind us, and don’t open it for anyone but us, understand?”

Sharon sighed and sat on the bed. A faint cloud of dust rose, and she made a face at it. For dust to accumulate down here, no one must have used this place in decades. That meant fewer people who knew about it, she supposed. “You’d better come back for me,” she warned. “If I die down here, no one’s going to know.”

Bucky drifted closer and kissed her forehead. “I swear I’ll come back,” he promised. “With May. You won’t die down here.” He glanced at the walls around her, and she knew he was checking how thick they were, how likely they were to protect her. Her family did the same thing. Hell, she’d grown up plotting escape routes from her elementary schools and summer camps. She’d thought it was normal until lunch with Hope in college, when Sharon had told her the five quickest escape routes from the cafeteria in case of a shooting. “Get some sleep while you can. _Real_ sleep. We don’t know what’s coming.”

On that cheerful note, the two of them left, and Sharon was left alone with her thoughts and a run-down television. She hastily turned it to the news, but there was only cheerful news about the latest internet meme that the 50+ crowd had finally caught on to and more news about bombings in the Middle East. None of it told her anything about Steve. None of it could distract her from thinking about him. Even with the television on, flipping through channels to find something - _anything_ \- she couldn’t stop thinking her horrible, awful thoughts. Not knowing what had happened to Steve, not knowing who was after them or why. Doubts about whom to trust. Doubts that she would see Steve again.

In the end, she crawled under the covers and willed herself to sleep, if only so she would stop thinking.

* * *

“I love this place,” Bucky admitted when they were in the kitchen again. At first, he’d thought it was too grand for the likes of him, but then he’d found out about the bomb-rigged graves and the pressure-stones in the garden. Not to mention Grunkle Harrison’s plot.

“Like Disneyland for spies,” May agreed. She fixed him with a stare. “How do you want to do this?”

“We have to do this together.” His voice was firm. “If one of us gets hurt or attacked, we won’t have time to warn the other.”

May nodded. “Morse and Sitwell should be joining us once they’re sure they weren’t followed.”

Bucky nodded. “So let’s check what booby-traps we can, set the place up for unwelcome visitors.” He hesitated. “And we need to find a way to get in touch with S- the President. Barton. Tell him we’re here.”

May gave another nod and took out the burner phone. “Barton knows to come here. We still need to tell Fury what’s going on, though. He has more resources than we do right now, and I think we can trust him.” She dialed, then frowned as the call went unanswered. Bucky overheard the voicemail pick up. May’s message was succinct and coded. His niece hated her vacation and was worried about poison ivy, and May wanted something more to amuse her than watching TV. She hung up and nodded to Bucky. “Let’s go.”

They roamed the house first, finding three traps that Sharon hadn’t warned them about and might not have known about, all of them dedicated to protecting the perimeter of the house, and three more caches of weapons, one looking like it was leftover from the first World War. “Jesus,” Bucky muttered. “I had no idea her family was like this.”

“Unhinged or cool or both?” May asked, hiding the most recent cache.

“I’m leaning toward both right now.”

She nodded.

In the library, he did a little more snooping that he probably should have. All of the books seemed harmless, classics and antique books written in Latin, except for one shelf about history and international intrigue. He wasn’t surprised when May found passports from 1932 in an edition of _Tom Sawyer._ There were no photos, though. And now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been any family portraits in the hall.

Each of the desk drawers held a false bottom. Coins from the 1950‘s, loose bills from 1967, encoded letters that looked much, much older. He almost missed the secret compartment under the desk, but it bulged a bit. He pulled it out and made a thoughtful sound.

“What is it?” May asked.

“Something for Sharon to see later.” He set the folder aside and looked up at her. “Ready to secure the grounds?”

* * *

“Where’d you learn to steal a car?” Sam asked.

“I was a carny,” Barton admitted.

Steve frowned at him as he jimmied the wires. “How’d you get in the Service if you were a carny?”

“Because I’m good, sir.”

Good, and because he probably downplayed that in his application if he’d mentioned it at all. Given Barton’s ease with stealing food and clothing for them to disguise themselves, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if there was more to Barton than the Secret Service knew. But Barton was on his team, which he was grateful for. “Why’d you go into the Secret Service anyway?” he asked. The car’s engine turned over, and Barton shooed him into the back seat, taking the driver’s seat for himself.

“Figured it would piss off my old man,” Barton admitted. “Guy was an asshole.”

Steve sobered. He could say that his father was an asshole, too. A good man when sober, a much worse one otherwise. But Abe had been his father too long for him to consider his dad a father in anything but the biological sense. And Steve couldn’t imagine doing anything to intentionally upset Abe.

“I got into the Army ‘cause I thought chicks would dig me,” Sam said lightly. “Did two tours before I realized I’d been hot stuff all along.”

Barton snorted. “Get some sleep so you’ll shut up, Wilson.” He glanced in the rearview. “You, too, sir. We’ll be there by tomorrow.”

Steve frowned. “No interstate?”

Barton shook his head. “Interstate’s going to be too easy to watch. There are more side streets, and those will be harder to track. Slower, but safer.”

Steve nodded. Sam was already snoring in the front seat, and Steve had to admit that he was glad to be off his feet again.

“Wake me when we get close,” he directed. His voice came out as a slur.

“Wake you before that, sir,” Barton replied. “I’ve got to sleep, too, you know.”

Steve crossed his arms. It had been a while since he’d prayed outside of church. He hadn’t made time for it since taking office. But now he took a minute to pray for Abe, and for Sharon and Bucky and that he’d at least get to see them again before whatever happened, happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only occurred to me now that this chapter is essentially just drawing things out to torture readers, and I could have written more porn. WHOOPS. OH, WELL!


	23. Chapter 23

Bucky and May locked the cabinet door behind them. From inside, it could be locked with deadbolts, and Bucky had to admit that as potentially insane and obviously in need of therapy as Sharon’s family was, he was grateful for their paranoia. He carried the folder and the emergency bag and suitcase to her door and knocked softly. It took another knock before the door opened, her eyes still half-closed with sleep and her hair and clothes ruffled. Times like this, he thought he could see what Steve must. Or maybe he saw something entirely different. Regardless, he liked it. He didn’t think he liked her in the same way he liked Steve, but he liked it.

He stepped inside and nodded to May, who carried her own bag into the room down the hall. The two had found a security hutch there, wall-to-wall with monitors that kept track of the grounds. May had volunteered to take first shift, giving him time to make sure Sharon was all right.

“Lock it,” he directed Sharon, going to set their bags on the bedspread. “I come bearing gifts.” He started unpacking for her as she locked the door behind him. He didn’t dare unpack too much; there was no telling if they’d have to leave soon, but he figured anything he could pack again in less than a minute wasn’t too much.

“So _that’s_ where my favorite nightgown went,” she murmured.

“Figured if you had to run in a hurry, you’d want some familiar things.” He set her wedding picture on the bedside table, and she frowned.

“Wasn’t that on my desk?”

“I talked to Daisy about getting a copy made, just in case.” He left most of the clothes in the bag and set it aside, then dug out his own pajamas. He watched the television as he changed. “Anything?”

She hugged herself and eyed the television. He wasn’t used to seeing her lost or helpless, and no small part of him was starting to resent whoever had put her in this position. “Nothing. Pierce is talking up some of his bills. He has the Vice President’s support.” She frowned.

“What?”

She shook her head. “No. Conspiracies aren’t like that. It’s just me being... I don’t know. Stupid and paranoid.”

“Family trait,” he teased.

He was unprepared for the glare she sent his way. “Don’t.” Her tone was cold. “I’m nothing like those people.”

He cleared his throat to ward off a sudden chill and shoved the folder closer to her. “I found that in the library.”

She looked at it for a moment, then drifted closer. She flipped it open with a nonchalant gesture, then stilled. Slowly, as if unaware she was doing it, she sank onto the bed and started sorting through newspaper clippings and magazine articles, USB drives labeled with speeches and swearing-in ceremonies. A hand went to her mouth.

“I thought you might like it,” Bucky said, starting to get nervous. He’d thought she’d be happy to see it.

She swallowed and kept her head down over the folder. “I thought they didn’t...”

Carefully, he eased himself down beside her. “Didn’t what?”

She inhaled sharply. “I don’t know. Care? They- they hated that I went into politics. They thought it would make me a target.” She waved a hand around the room. “Looks like they were right. They’re dead and still right. Still getting the last word.” Her hand trembled over a news article about her and Steve. It looked ten years old. “I hated that haircut,” she murmured.

Unsure what to do, Bucky continued to sit as she flipped page after page. At length, he said, “I think parents always care. Good ones, anyway. They’re just not always happy about what we choose. Because they want us to be better or happier or something.” He shrugged. “My parents wanted me to be an engineer,” he admitted. “They thought that would make me money and I could live comfortably and they’d never have to worry about me. Only I wanted to go into the Army.”

She closed the folder as if it were fragile. “Why’d you get out? How’d you become a Secret Service agent?”

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “My little sister got sick. Parents couldn’t manage on their own. She needed special hospitals. Their insurance wouldn’t cover everything. I went on leave from the Army to help.” He steeled himself before he continued. “Then Becky died. My mom was worn down, ended up spending time in the hospital herself. In the end, she couldn’t fight off the pneumonia. Dad couldn’t get over losing them both. Died a couple weeks later.”

“Jesus.”

He shrugged again. “Sometimes life gets you, you know? But after that, I needed a way to pay the bills, and the Army didn’t pay enough.”

“And the Secret Service does?”

“Pays better.”

She made a face. “You know, if you need money, you could just ask.” He glared at her before he could stop himself, and she sucked in her breath. “Or you can just be proud or something, I guess.”

“It’s not pride. It’s responsibility. It’s duty.”

She stared at him for several minutes, and then her eyes fell again to the folder. “Where did you say you found it?”

“The library upstairs.”

She nodded, her fingers carefully going through the file.

As the silence stretched on, he said, “Sorry if I snapped at you. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking.” She lifted her face toward his. “That was a very Steve thing of you to do, trying to pay it off yourself. Taking on that duty.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

She looked away again with a shrug. “Maybe I can see what he sees in you. Sometimes.”

Bucky grinned. “Likewise. Sometimes.”

* * *

Steve woke with someone kicking him, and he didn’t bother opening his eyes before he kicked back. After sharing a not-large bed with two other people, one of whom used people for pillows and the other of whom preferred to have a lot of personal room while sleeping, he was used to fighting for space without waking up first.

“Goddamn it,” Sam grunted. Now someone was shaking his shoulder.

Steve’s eyes blinked awake. And of course he wasn’t back in his bed. No, he was in a freaking barn in a state he couldn’t identify if he tried. He thought they were closer to the East coast, but he couldn’t tell for certain. Only Barton knew.

And Barton was currently looking out the window, peering outside and getting ready to take aim.

Steve looked at Sam in alarm, and Sam nodded. “They showed up about twenty minutes ago.”

“How’d they find us?”

Barton shrugged. “They have the resources of the Secret Service. Which means they coordinate with a bunch of different agencies. They could have found us through NSA surveillance, CIA surveillance, any number of ways.”

“So basically it’s the three of us against the United States government,” Steve said dryly. “Great.”

Barton held up a finger. “There’s the optimism we need right right. Wilson? Grab a gun.”

“I can shoot, too,” Steve offered. The look both of them gave him made him sigh and sit back. Great. The President was too valuable even to pull his own weight.

“Actually,” Barton said after a moment, “I’m going to ask both of you to head to the other side of the barn.”

Steve looked at him quizzically, but then Barton was pushing and shoving him toward the back of the barn.

Sam beat them to the back door and peeked out before shaking his head. “More on that side.”

Barton cursed. “How many?”

“Too many.” Sam met Barton’s glare with one of his own. “Three SUVs. At least twice as many agents.”

Steve swallowed. “They must really want me dead. I know it can’t be based on any legislation I managed to pass...”

“Joke later, sir.”

Steve shook his head. He hadn’t been joking, not exactly.

They looked toward the front of the barn as they heard something hit the wall, and in a flash, they were both on top of him, pinning him to the floor. Steve grunted. It was nice that they wanted to protect him, but at this rate, they were going to kill him doing it.

“Find a cellar,” Barton snapped. Steve turned his head and saw what Barton did - the straw and dry wooden walls of the barn starting to burn. The straw was going faster than the walls, cutting them off from the front of the barn. Even if they could get out that way, agents would be waiting on the other side to shoot them. Steve fought to keep himself from panicking as Sam looked for a cellar door or anything they could use to protect themselves from the fire and smoke.

He turned his head again as he heard something thunking against the other side of the barn. Seconds later, there was a series of thumps against the third wall, then the fourth.

Barton rolled to the side and ripped part of his shirt, tying it roughly around Steve’s mouth and nose before doing the same for himself. Sam rejoined them and was treated to the same.

Steve watched Barton count his bullets. Sam turned the safety off on his and looked to Barton, nodding toward the back door.

Steve licked his lips. “Give me a gun,” he repeated.

After a moment’s hesitation, Barton pulled out another gun and handed it over. “Make the shots count,” he directed.

Steve nodded and took it in hand. Alarmingly, one of his first dates with Sharon had been to a gun range, and he’d received his first lesson in firearms there. He’d never much liked guns, though.

Still. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. He tested the weight, familiarized himself with the sights as quickly as he could, and turned off the safety before nodding to the others. Some vague part of him acknowledged that one or both or all of them might die in the next few minutes. Already the air was getting thin and hot. 

All he’d wanted last night was to see Sharon and Bucky again.

Something crashed through the wall; Steve got a flash of a black SUV as Sam tackled him to the ground and Barton raised his gun.

“Shoot me, and I’ll shoot you!” a familiar voice snapped. “Get in!”

“Nick?” No one had time to answer; already, hands were pushing Steve into the backseat of the SUV. They piled into the back in a tangle of arms and legs; only Barton managed to keep his gun arm free.

“Barton, help me with this.” Steve lifted his head and _swore_ he saw Barton push a body out of the other side of the car, but then Barton was on top of him, covering him again, and Nick put the car in reverse. The speed nearly caused all three in the backseat to tumble onto the floor.

None of them spoke until the barn was out of sight. Fury looked in the rearview and said cheerfully, “Congratulations on being dead, Mr. President!”

* * *

Even in her sleep, she couldn’t bring herself to kick Bucky out of bed. Of course, she wasn’t sleeping so much as drifting in and out, trying to keep track of everything around her. She knew, reasonably, that a person could only survive so long without letting their brain rest, but she was too worried about Steve, too uncomfortable on the bed, too uncomfortable breathing in the stale air.

All Bucky had to do was sit up, and she was awake, pushing herself up.

He stared intently at the television, and she stared at it, too. Helicopter footage showed a hollowed, blackened structure in the middle of a corn field. Her heart started pounding.

“-believed that the President took shelter in the barn, but his security wasn’t enough to fend off-”

Her breath caught. Were they actually saying-

“-word on confirmation?”

A window popped up with Alexander Pierce’s face. “Unfortunately, sources tell me that the President was in the barn when it burned.”

Sharon stared at the footage, open-mouthed. She couldn’t make her lungs work right. They wouldn’t draw air.

“All we can hope for is that he wasn’t alive when the building burned.”


	24. Chapter 24

Bucky stared at the television in shock. It had to be a lie. It _had_ to be. He was supposed to feel something, wasn’t he? If Steve were dead, he was supposed to feel something the moment it happened. And yet, he felt nothing. Nothing but shock and disbelief.

A sound from beside him sent a shiver down his spine. Part choked moan, part cry.

He looked at Sharon and sprang into action. Part of him was secretly glad for something to do. He grabbed the comforter from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. He went to the door and unlocked it. “May!”

In seconds, May was in the hallway, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What is it?”

“News.” It was all he said; it was all he _could_ say.

She followed him back into the room and watched the news mutely as they replayed the footage of the burnt barn. It was the first presidential assassination since Kennedy in 1963. There was no chance the media would cover any other story.

Bucky pulled Sharon into his arms. She was crying, but she didn’t seem to be aware of it. She made choked sounds as she tried to keep from sobbing, her eyes focused on the TV. Bucky rubbed her back and rocked her back and forth, telling her to breathe, breathe. After a minute or two, she started inhaling as they rocked forward, exhaling as they rocked back. He kept rocking her back and forth as she calmed down.

May turned to look back at them, then turned back to the TV.

Sharon finally calmed down enough to take several deep breaths. Her face was still red and tear-stained, but Bucky was relieved to see that she seemed more like her usual self. “May. What are the odds they’re telling the truth?”

“We won’t know until the autopsies come back.” She pressed her lips together, and there was just a hint of her chewing the inside of her cheek. It was the most human gesture Bucky had ever seen her betray, which meant she was far more upset than she seemed.

“So it might not be him?”

May frowned at her. After several seconds, she clenched her fists. “Don’t trust hope. We’ll find out what happened, but you have to prepare yourself for the worst.”

Sharon stared at her mutely, and Bucky patted her back.

She squirmed out of his reach, and he couldn’t help feeling a small bit of relief. He knew how to comfort his little sister, knew how to comfort his mother and father, but as well as he knew Sharon, he didn’t know how to make her feel better yet. Normally, he left that to Steve, and now...

God. What was going to happen to them now?

Erskine’s name caused him to look again at the television, and all three of them watched as the anchor announced that Dr. Abraham Erskine, one of the President’s advisers, had been found dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. “Evidently, the suicide-”

“-apparent suicide,” Pierce cut in.

“Apparent suicide,” the anchor echoed before continuing as if nothing had happened, “happened three days ago. Can you share any insight on why Dr. Erskine would kill himself?”

Pierce resituated himself in front of the camera as if uncomfortable. “I can say that Dr. Erskine was an exceptionally good man. If he felt so much shame, or felt he had participated in something so unforgiveable that he thought the only way out was suicide, I can only imagine what President Rogers might have done.”

“You think President Rogers is the reason Dr. Erskine killed himself?”

“They dropped the allegedly,” May murmured.

Pierce looked almost helpless. “With the President dead, we may not know everything he did. But we can safely say that he must have deflected blame onto Congress for his presidential inaction in order to draw attention from his own alleged crimes.”

Sharon jumped to her feet. “New plan,” she spat out. She strode over to the gun wall, nearly tripping over the blanket on the way, and picked up the FNP-45. “We kill that prick, then keep killing him until there isn’t enough of him to form a smudge on the sidewalk.”

Bucky followed her and lowered the gun with a hand. “You can’t kill a United States Senator.” He glanced at May. “But I should point out that I’m a sniper. And a good one.”

“I read the file,” May confirmed. “Many times.”

Sharon glared at them both. “You don’t get it! Pierce is discrediting Steve on purpose! He knows that isn’t how Abe died- he has to! He’s just a fucking, oily snake! And if there’s even a _chance_ he killed Steve, then I’m going to-”

Bucky pressed her against the wall, a hand over her mouth and the other making sure the gun was pointed toward the floor. He looked at May, and May nodded; she’d heard it, too. A crackling sound, like sparks working their way through metal. It was faint enough, especially over the television, that he didn’t think it came from the hallway. No, it must be coming from- Shit. The hidden entrance.

Quietly, May selected one of the guns from the wall and slid toward the door. She slammed the door closed and leapt toward him. “Grenade!” she shouted.

Without thinking, Bucky tossed Sharon toward the bed, grabbed May, and ran to join Sharon on the other side. He didn’t know how fortified the wall was, but he knew that if the door got blown off its hinges, the bed would provide more cover than nothing at all. He was barely aware of the explosion, of the dust that filled the room. May, the last one across the bed, was limp, and he pulled her onto the floor and out of harm’s way. Sharon coughed beneath him.

Bucky’s mind reeled. What were they up against? He had to get Sharon and May out of here, damn it!

“Ollie ollie oxen free,” a voice sang. Sharon’s head snapped up and met Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky nodded. That was Rumlow, all right. Rumlow had managed to find them. And possibly mount an attack on them. “Anybody still alive?”

Bucky glanced at Sharon’s gun, then decided against it. If he failed, she would need it to protect herself. And he couldn’t use the mattress as cover against bullets for them both; if he was going to shoot Rumlow, with the chance of Rumlow shooting back, he had to do it from somewhere else.

He looked again at Sharon, briefly cupped her cheek, and then hopped across the bed to grab his Uze on the other side. He felt the bullet hit his leg and grunted but kept going, grabbing the gun and dropping into a roll. Rumlow must have infrared at his disposal to see through all the dust in the air. Good to know.

He lifted his gun. There was a dark shadow coming closer; he shot, and it fell. Another shadow, another shot. He concentrated on his breathing, on blocking out the pain in his leg, on shooting one after another after another. He didn’t care how many people he killed. This was what he knew. This was what he was good at. He’d do it to the ends of the earth if he had to.

He didn’t see the flashbang coming. He tried to lay cover fire, but he had to be careful not to shoot too close to the bed; he couldn’t risk hurting Sharon or May. A piece of plaster broke off the wall beside his head; the next bullet caught him in the shoulder.

One-handed, he tried to aim the Uze with his hip and his leg. He fumbled, someone got through, hit him. Hit him again. He heard the sharp crack of his nose breaking, heard Rumlow shouting at him as the echo of bone cracking reverberated in his skull. He felt more than saw Rumlow try to take the Uze away, and Bucky clung to it stubbornly. He wouldn’t let Rumlow use it. He couldn’t think very clearly right now, but he knew Rumlow would try to use it on Sharon and May, and he wouldn’t let him do it.

“I can work with that,” Rumlow snarled.

Rumlow must have changed the Uze’s settings to fire multiple shots; gunshots crackled, deafening Bucky all over again.

He hoped no one else heard him cry out.

* * *

“Gentlemen, this is where you get out,” Nick announced.

Steve straightened. He’d lost track of how much time he’d spent slouched in the back seat of the SUV, though at some point Sam had fallen asleep slumped against him. From the way Sam rubbed his neck as he sat up, Sam hadn’t rested comfortably, either.

Steve looked out the window and tensed when he saw the other SUV, a raven-haired woman leaning against one of the headlights. “Who’s she?”

“Maria Hill. You can trust her. She’s going to get you to a safe house.”

He looked at Nick in alarm. “We were _going_ to a safe house. Sharon’s at her parents’ place.”

Nick’s eyes went from him to Maria and back again, as if he didn’t have the patience to explain himself. “She’ll meet you at the new safe house,” he said firmly. “I’m picking her up next. Figured since you were in more danger, I’d get to you first. That okay, Mr. President?”

Steve frowned at him. He and Nick had been on a first-term basis since shortly before Steve and Sharon’s wedding. Nick had called him “Mr. President” only three times before outside of meetings - once when he won the election, once at the Inaugural dinner, and the last time when he’d faked Steve’s death. None of those times had he sounded sarcastic.

In the end, he only got out of the SUV because he wanted Nick to make sure Sharon was safe. “Can I talk to her when you see her?” he asked before he closed the door.

Nick sighed. “Once she’s in the car and we’re on the way to you, yes, but shit’s going down. Hill will keep you safe. I’ve gotta get to your wife.”

Steve nodded and closed the door before following Barton and Sam over to Hill.

She nodded to them and handed Steve a baseball cap and sunglasses. “Mr. President.”

Sam snickered, and Steve looked at the team logo, then grimaced. “Yankees? Really?”

There might have been a hint of a smirk, but if so, it was gone before Steve could be sure. “Get in the car, Mr. President. Director Fury has a safe house set up for you.”

* * *

Sharon coughed from the plaster dust. Her ears rang with gunfire. May was unconscious beside her. She knew better than to look over the bed to try and find Bucky, knew better than to make herself a target. The dust stung her eyes, made it difficult to see, but whoever was attacking them right now would have come prepared. They’d be able to see her before she could see them.

Bucky screamed. She couldn’t make out all the words Rumlow was using; it didn’t sound as if he’d learned any new ones since grade school. But she knew the sound of Bucky’s voice, the pain that made her heart skip several beats.

She huddled closer to the floor. Bucky was hurt. May was unconscious.

She’d been trained for this, but at the same time it was nothing like what she’d been trained for. There were no controlled conditions, no one to cover her back or call off the training if things got too dangerous.

She clutched the FNP-45 to her chest and took a slow, deep breath. First, she had to calm down. Second, she had to think. She was a daughter of spies. She was the First Lady of the goddamn United States of America. She was Sharon Fucking Carter, damn it.

She swallowed thickly. Even in her head, bravado sounded better when she wasn’t terrified that she was about to die.

She took another deep breath and tried not to cough on the dust. Turning her head, she lifted the bedskirt and checked under the bed. There was enough room to hide if a person needed to. Carefully, she dropped the bedskirt behind her so that anyone who saw her wouldn’t see May, too.

Rumlow was talking again, something about fags and bitches. Slowly, reminding herself that the human eye was drawn toward quick movements, she lifted the bedskirt on the other side.

The FNP-45 hadn’t been designed to shoot someone in the ankles from less than four feet, but she figured it would do.

She lined up the shot to only use one bullet - she doubted she’d have time to shoot both ankles otherwise - and squeezed the trigger. She was rewarded with a cry of rage and pain, and even as Rumlow fell on his back and glared at her under the bed, part of her was cruelly pleased that his bone shards were on the carpet.

“Fucking _bitch,_ ” Rumlow grated, swinging his gun - no, Bucky’s Uze - around to shoot her.

She shot automatically, kept shooting until his eyes weren’t looking back at her and the gun clicked, the chamber empty.

She took a shaky breath and slid out from beneath the bed. Bucky had fallen to the floor, his eyes closed and his breathing uneven. His arm hung by tendrils of skin, blood soaking his shirt. There were more wounds in his legs, and her fingers trembled as she reached toward him.

It took several tries to get her voice to work. “Bucky?” It came out no louder than a whisper. “Bucky, I need you to answer me, okay? Bucky?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t even stir, and she looked around in desperation. She didn’t know enough first aid for this. She couldn’t help him, couldn’t help May.

Okay. Her plan was to get Bucky and May to a hospital, then. Or at least a veterinarian. Did that one guy still live in the neighborhood, she wondered, the one who had stitched her up after she’d cut her hand climbing the fence?

She felt something hard against the back of her head; her breath caught. Her eyes closed. It was the muzzle of a gun, she knew that much. She knew whoever held the gun wasn’t a friend.

Without looking, her hand found Bucky’s. It wasn’t as warm as it had been the night before.

She cried out as the gun went off, then clutched Bucky’s hand to her chest. No, she was alive. Alive and not shot. She looked around, saw the other man’s body on the ground behind her before she saw May standing on the other side of the bed, using the mattress for support and slowly lowering the gun.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” May said. Her words were slurred, and in seconds, she swayed before stumbling to the ground and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been responding to comments! I finally finished the third-to-last chapter and am trying to finish the last two! I'll try to get to them all later today, though! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMMENTS, BTW. I LUFF THEM.


	25. Chapter 25

Sharon ran to help May, but May was already on the ground, trying to push herself back up. Sharon wrapped her arms around May’s waist and pulled her up to the bed. “Sit,” she ordered.

May nearly fell backward but managed to steady herself in time. “Just a little dizzy,” she murmured.

If nothing else, having someone sneak up behind her had shown Sharon what she needed to do. “Stay here. Cover Bucky. I’m going to make sure we can get you two out of here. You need a hospital.”

May fought to stand, then doubled over and vomited. Sharon stepped back before carefully pulling May’s hair out of the way. “You are _not_ going out there alone.”

“You two aren’t able to cover me right now,” Sharon pointed out, trying to sound reasonable even though she wanted nothing more right now than to have May and Bucky covering her back. “And if I stay here and wait until you feel better, Bucky will probably die. You have a concussion. If they know we’re in here, all they have to do is wait us out.”

“You can’t fight them all.”

Sharon looked at her in distaste, not liking that May was saying what Sharon was thinking. She didn’t think she could fight them all, either. She had taken a multitude of self-defense lessons as a child, but as her job and Steve had taken precedence, she hadn’t trained for it as much as she should have.

“It’s the only chance we have,” she said flatly.

May studied her a moment, the nodded. She turned her face toward Bucky, her head still lolling. 

Sharon swallowed. They both knew Bucky didn’t have long. She couldn’t lose Bucky and Steve in one day. She couldn’t lose them both, period.

“What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know,” Sharon admitted. After a moment, she tried to act glib. “Do every single thing my parents said not to, I suppose.” She looked at the wall of weapons. There should be some spare ammo in a drawer. She avoided looking at Rumlow’s body as she retrieved her FNP-45. It took her a couple seconds to find spare ammo. She kept telling herself to breathe, to remain calm. She couldn’t fall apart right now. If she messed up, if she got hurt or worse, there was no way Bucky and May would get out.

She locked the clip into place and looked back at May. “Try to keep Bucky alive, okay?”

May nodded tersely, and Sharon moved to the door. After another moment, she moved to the bedside table and pulled a compact mirror out of the drawer. She used it to peek around the corner and counted five men before one of them shot the mirror out of her hand.

She reached around the corner with her gun, laying down cover fire before peering around the corner and aiming to shoot. She ignored the brick chips and dust as bullets struck the wall inches from her face, continuing to shoot with most of her body safely in the room. When all of the men had fallen, she heaved a sigh of relief.

It was short-lived. Gunfire resounded in the hall, cover fire for whomever was coming next, and Sharon whipped back into the room. She didn’t have time to keep restocking the FNP.

She ran around to the weapons wall. She should have thought ahead, she thought. Of _course_ she’d need more than a gun to get them out of this.

Grabbing some grenades, she ran back to what was left of the door, only to be met with silence as the gunfire ceased.

“You’d better be alive down there. I didn’t come all this way to find a corpse.”

Sharon fell to her knees, her breath coming out in a sob. “Nick?”

“Who else would be stupid enough to visit a house like this when it’s under attack?” he demanded. He sounded closer.

She peeked around the wall. There was still smoke or dust - she couldn’t tell and didn’t care - but she could make out his silhouette. She took a shuddering breath. “Bucky and May are hurt. They need a hospital. Do you know if that veterinarian still lives down the street?”

He pulled her to her feet. “Doubt it. Let me see them.” He spotted May and moved past Sharon, briefly studying May before turning to Bucky, his features grim. “Help May to my car. I’ll get Barnes. And hurry.”

Nodding, Sharon ran to May and threw the woman’s arm over her shoulder. May’s steps were unsure, but they gathered strength the more they walked. By the time they got outside, she was studying the corpses that littered the lawn for any chance they might still be alive.

“There,” Nick said, nodding to an SUV and taking the lead. Sharon helped May hobble over. As soon as the door closed, Nick hit the gas. “Just cleaned this car up,” he muttered darkly. He punched in a number. A woman answered, and Nick said a word and a string of numbers. He hung up without preamble.

Sharon looked to May, who sat rigidly beside her as if determination alone could keep her going, and Bucky, whose arm looked odd in his sleeve and whose breathing was shallow. “Where are we going?” It came out as a whisper, and she cleared her throat before repeating it.

“Somewhere you’ll like even less than this place. But I guarantee you’ll be safe.”

The scenery whipped by; Nick had his lights on. At first, Sharon didn’t think anything of it, but then she realized they were drawing too much attention to themselves. “Shouldn’t we-” The words died in her throat. Nick knew more about espionage than she could even imagine. “Is this safe?” she asked instead.

“None of this is safe,” he confirmed. “But unless you want those two to die, we’re doing it anyway.”

Sharon paled. Tears stung her eyes, but she ignored it. “Can you go faster?”

Nick flashed her a tight grin in the rearview mirror. He took a sharp turn into a private airfield; May grunted as she bounced in the backseat.

“Just making sure you’re awake,” Nick called back cheerfully.

May glared at the back of his head.

A helicopter sat in a corner, its rotors already spinning. Nick nodded to Sharon, and she helped May out of the car as he helped Bucky. Nick arranged them in the backseat and signaled the pilot. The helicopter was too loud to allow conversation, and Sharon found herself watching the skies and mentally reviewing all the ways a helicopter could crash. Nearly everyone she had left to care about in the entire world was here, and if someone used a drone to take them out...

The New York skyline rose in the distance, and Sharon tensed. To be shot down over the city would mean even more loss of life, terrorist fears, and who knew what else. To her mixed relief, they touched down on the rooftop of a skyscraper. Nick opened the door, and some men, directed by a woman, helped him set Bucky on a stretcher. After that, Nick helped her move May, keeping May’s head pushed down as he led the way to the rooftop door.

Sharon nearly stumbled when she saw who waited for them there, a glass of something alcoholic in his hand. She felt anger bubble to the surface just by looking at him, and she held onto it. Anger felt better than grief. It was easy to be angry at Tony Stark, playboy and billionaire extraordinaire.

Once inside, the doors closed behind them, the sound of the helicopter was muffled to a quiet, pulsing hum. She and Nick guided May to another nurse who ran to meet them, and then Sharon wheeled on Nick. “What are we _doing_ here?” she seethed.

Of course, Stark interjected. “Who would think to look for you here?” he countered. “Fury showed up at a dinner party to ask me some questions. I thought it was weird, so I did some digging of my own and called him.”

“You funded Pierce’s campaign almost single-handedly,” Sharon spat. “And now you expect me to think you’re going to _help?_ Help me and-” Her breath caught, her eyes starting to water. Her and Steve, but he couldn’t help her and Steve. Her husband was gone, and the person closest to him in her life was on the verge of death.

Stark wrapped her fingers around his drink, and she kicked it back without a second thought. Alcohol was probably the only way he knew to comfort people. That, and money. She wouldn’t say no to alcohol right now.

“Helen Cho is the best doctor on the planet,” he told her, not unkindly. She hated that he was being nice. “She’ll save the boytoy.” At her glare, he shrugged. “Boyfriend. Mistress. Whatever.”

“His name,” she said coldly, “is Bucky Barnes.”

Tony shook his head. “I have too much pride to call someone Bucky.”

A disembodied voice came from a speaker nearby, announcing more guests. Sharon looked to Nick. “I can use a gun,” she told him, before realizing where she was. Tony Stark was the biggest weapons manufacturer in the world. She turned on him. “Give me a gun,” she ordered.

Nick pulled her away by the arm. “No gun necessary. I told you. Stark’s on our side.”

She dug her heels in to no avail. “Nick- Rumlow was there. He was Secret Service. You can’t just-”

Somewhere, a door must have opened, because she caught just the tail end of a sentence. “-gotta be kidding me.”

She sobbed and clamped a hand to her mouth. She didn’t need Nick pulling her along anymore. She stumbled down the hall and paused in the doorway. Steve’s clothes were dirty, his hair unkempt. He sported the beginnings of a beard. Splotches of dry blood stained his shirt; one side of his face had small cuts, with a larger one on his hand. She’d never been happier to see him.

She nearly fell as she ran toward him. Seeing her, he limped forward.

It wasn’t until she felt his arms wrap around her that her legs gave out and the tears she’d been holding in let loose.

* * *

Steve fell to his knees as Sharon collapsed against him, but he didn’t have it in him to let her go. He’d thought, however briefly, that he might never see her again, and to be able to hold her... He wasn’t ready to let go yet. He smoothed her hair over and over, letting her cry against his shirt, her face hidden to the others. He murmured to her, his cheek against the top of her head, and held her tightly.

His eyes found Nick, and he mouthed a thank you. Nick only nodded in response.

When Steve saw Stark, he frowned. What was Stark doing here?

And where was Bucky?

He almost pulled away from Sharon to ask her before he caught himself, and he tightened his grasp on her as her shoulders continued to shake. “Where’s Bucky?” he asked quietly. “May? Morse?” His eyes slipped to the blood on Sharon’s clothes, and he swallowed thickly. “Sitwell?”

Sharon whimpered, coughed, and kept crying.

“Barnes is in surgery,” Nick said firmly. “May’s getting checked out. Didn’t see Morse or Sitwell.”

Sharon took a deep breath. A woman with strawberry-blonde hair appeared at Steve’s side with a glass of water, and he took it with a nod of thanks before handing it to Sharon. She took a shuddering breath and drank the whole glass. “Weren’t there,” she gasped when she was done. “Morse and Sitwell were supposed to meet up with us. Never made it. Don’t know why. We got attacked by- by Rumlow.” She shuddered, and Steve pulled her closer. “He got Bucky. Shot him a lot.” Her voice broke, and she wiped her eyes quickly before the others could see her cry. “May got a concussion when they threw a grenade down the stairs.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Bucky. How bad?”

She stared at him, her eyes watering again. After a second, she shook her head and buried herself against his chest.

“He’ll pull through,” Stark said loftily. “I don’t hire second-rate doctors. Cho’s the best one on the planet. I pay for her research, so she has plenty of reason to try to keep me happy.”

“Tony,” the strawberry-blonde warned.

“Reason to do a good job,” Stark amended.

The woman bent to peer at Steve around Stark. “My name is Pepper Potts.”

Steve nodded. He’d heard of Pepper Potts. Her secretarial and business skills were legendary.

“We’ve got rooms ready for you, Mr. Wilson, and...” She glanced at Barton, who grinned thinly.

“Agent Barton, ma’am.”

Pepper nodded. “Agent Barton. When they’re discharged, we’ll also provide a room for Agent May and- I’m assuming you would like Mr. Barnes to stay with you, Mr. President.”

Steve nodded and swallowed. “Can we see Bucky first?”

Pepper pursed her lips. “He’s in surgery now and may not be out for some time. I’ll be sure to have you alerted as soon as he’s out of surgery, though.” She paused. “Your room has a bath attached, and Mr. Stark has arranged for all of you to have clean clothes.”

Sam shifted his feet. “Hallelujah,” he murmured.

Steve looked down at Sharon. Her sobbing had faded, and she seemed like she was about to fall asleep against him. He nodded again, pushing himself to his feet. He was stiff enough that Sam had to give him a hand. He pulled Sharon up with him; she tottered a little as she got to her feet. “As soon as he’s out of surgery,” Steve said firmly.

Pepper nodded and led them to their rooms. “Anything you want, just speak into the intercoms.” She paused. “I know you may not trust Mr. Stark, but I assure you he’s a good man. You’ll both be perfectly safe here.”

Steve tried to remind himself that men could still be good even when they disagreed with him, but given people who disagreed with him were currently trying to kill him, he had his doubts. Still, he trusted that Nick wouldn’t have brought them here if it weren’t safe. “Thank you.”

She nodded, and he closed the door, waiting several seconds for her to walk down the hall before he locked the door behind him.

“I thought you were dead,” Sharon whispered. “The news said- And that Abe-”

“Abe’s gone,” Steve confirmed. The thought made him hold her tighter. “Barton saw it. They hit the diner we were in with something, and Abe got hit with glass. They- they shot the survivors.”

She looked as if she were about to cry again, but then her features hardened. “Pierce. He was on TV implying that you were trying to cover something up and Abe killed himself out of shame.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. Abe would _never_ kill himself. _Ever._ That anyone would even say it... But then, why would he expect the people who killed Abe to honor his memory? “Barton said he saw Secret Service agents shooting people in the diner. Trying to shoot me. Makes sense someone in the government would be controlling them.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Her voice was frigid; it sent a shiver down his spine. Slowly, her eyes lifted to his. “I killed Rumlow.” Her lips started to tremble. “I didn’t do it in time, but I killed him.”

He kissed her forehead. “Good.”

She drew a shaky breath, and he grasped her hand as she leaned her forehead against his chest.

Over her head, he saw that pajamas had already been laid out on the bed. A silk nightgown for Sharon, and Dodgers pants and a white tee for him. He didn’t even _want_ to know how Nick or Stark had found out what the two of them liked to sleep in. He cleared his throat. “Bed first or shower?”

She exhaled. “I want to say bed,” she admitted, “but I feel like everything from the past few days is attached to my skin.”

“Shower, then.” He paused. “I’d carry you, but I’m not up to it yet.”

She wrapped an arm around his waist and they limped toward the bathroom together. “You all right?”

“Had to walk almost a full day before Barton found a car he deemed stealable. Business shoes aren’t walking shoes.” He trailed off. It didn’t seem right to talk about shoes when Bucky was in surgery.

She cupped his cheek. “He’ll be okay, Steve.”

His thumb stroked her arm. “Can you promise me that?”

Her eyes fell. “We’ll know soon,” she said at last.

The first thing he did when they were in the bathroom was turn the water as hot as it would go. Sharon helped him out of his clothes, and he did the same for her, his expression twisting as her shirt refused to smooth out, stiffened as it was by blood. He swallowed, realizing some of the blood must be Bucky’s, and carefully set it aside.

The shower was quiet. They knew each other well enough to turn at the other’s gesture, to rub the other’s shoulders at a glance, to pass the shampoo and soap without missing a beat. He nearly fell asleep once; Sharon nearly fell asleep twice.

In the end, physically clean but not feeling anything but wetter, they toweled off. He tugged his pajama bottoms on. “I’m not helping you put clothes on,” he warned. “It’s the opposite of my specialty.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Keep the beard a little longer.”

“Why? You going to pull it while I’m sleeping?”

“Don’t tempt me.” She pulled his arm around her shoulders and walked slowly to the bed. He didn’t need the help, but he accepted it nonetheless. “I was thinking you should let Bucky see it first.”

His heart warmed. Whatever had happened to Bucky, it sounded as if there was only a small chance he’d pull through. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the amount of blood on Sharon’s shirt. Still, he appreciated that she was trying to remain positive about Bucky’s chances of pulling through, that she was trying to give him hope. He was also glad that she curled up beside him, though he didn’t have much time to think about it before he was asleep, too.

The call came over the speaker all too soon, and bleary with sleep, Steve and Sharon forced themselves out of bed.

* * *

His vision was hazy at first. He felt as if he’d run a marathon. He’d done the Rangers course once when he’d first joined the Army, a smartass kid with more willpower than brains. He felt like he’d done the course five times over the day before.

Slowly, too slowly, he was able to focus on his surroundings. A bedroom, but not the one at the Carter Estate. This one was styled to be ultra-modern, and he could tell the furniture was expensive and breakable. He swallowed, his fingers itching for a gun. Where the hell was he?

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Bucky jumped at sudden movement to his right. He calmed when he saw Steve in the chair, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and Sharon curled up asleep in his lap. At Steve’s movement, she stirred.

Their clothes were clean, he noted. They both sported minor injuries, but they showed no signs of immediate danger. And they were wearing nightclothes. If Bucky didn’t miss his guess, that was Director Fury’s coat around Sharon’s shoulders.

What the hell had he missed?

“Come in,” Steve called, and Sharon’s eyes blinked awake. 

She smothered a yawn behind her hand and stumbled to her feet. She pulled a chair closer to Bucky, then looked to Steve. He pulled his chair closer as well, and she sat, covering Bucky’s hand with hers.

Bucky stared at them both. “When is someone going to tell me what the hell happened?” he croaked.

The woman who’d come in grinned down at him. “You were injured, Mr. Barnes. We’ve stabilized you. The treatment is still in the experimental stages, so you’ll have to stay a day or two while we monitor potential side effects.”

Bucky stared at her. Not understanding, he looked back at Steve and Sharon.

Steve nodded to her. “What needs to be done?”

While Steve spoke with the doctor, Sharon poured Bucky a glass of water and carefully helped him drink it.

“Rumlow shot you. Badly. May was concussed. She’s in the room next to yours and probably listening to us through the vents right now, but she has to get some rest, and so do you.” She shrugged and admitted, “So do we all. We’re at Tony Stark’s place in Manhattan. Nick, Sam, and Agent Barton are here. We still haven’t heard from Morse or Sitwell.” She hesitated, then looked to Steve.

He looked back to her, and his hand covered the both of theirs.

“They couldn’t save the arm,” she murmured cautiously. “The bullets did too much damage, and you would have died otherwise.”

Bucky nodded. He didn’t understand that yet, either. Damn it. He needed to keep sharp if he was going to keep them safe. “They gave me drugs?”

“Some,” the doctor confirmed. “We can do much, but not everything.”

Bucky nodded again. His arm itched, but he was too tired to scratch it. He sighed. “But everyone’s okay?”

Steve and Sharon nodded.

Another nod, and Bucky let his head fall into the pillows. “What’s the plan?”

They looked at each other. “We’re... still working on that,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded as if his head couldn’t do anything else. “Okay. Let me know what the plan is when you’ve got one.” His voice trailed off as he fell asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

The next time Bucky woke, Sharon was gone and Steve’s head had fallen back against the chair. Somehow, some way, Bucky was going to have to tell Steve that he snored.

Maybe he’d ask Sharon to do it.

Looking around some more, he spotted May in the doorway and frowned. Nearly all the skin he could see was bruised, and there were stitches above an eyebrow. “Where’s Sharon?”

May nodded down the hall. “With Potts and Stark. She was getting restless.”

Bucky nodded. Both Steve and Sharon didn’t do well with having nothing to do. Sharon was worse about it than Steve was; Steve had more patience. “You look like hell,” he told May. He hesitated. “I don’t look as bad as you, do I?”

May snorted. “You lost an arm, and _I_ look like hell?”

He glanced at his arms, only to find his left one missing. He instinctively tried to move his hand, and mentally, he could feel himself make the effort. It even felt for a moment as if his hand responded. But of course, there was nothing to respond. He swallowed. “Right.” He had a vague memory of Steve and Sharon talking to him about it now. He couldn’t remember everything, but he knew they’d talked to him about it. He studied some of the equipment in the room, but there was surprisingly little to look at. He didn’t even have an IV, just one small machine silently monitoring his vitals. He craned his neck to study the smooth skin at his shoulder where his arm should have been. He tried to rotate his shoulder to no avail. “It doesn’t hurt. I guess I forgot.”

He knew he was in trouble when he saw that May’s features had softened. “It’ll take getting used to,” she said quietly. “But I think you’ll manage.”

Bucky shrugged, then realized the gesture was one-sided and awkward. He stared at the bed covers over his feet. He’d have to get used to living without an arm. Any future jobs in law enforcement were out. He certainly couldn’t be a sniper anymore, either.

He cleared his throat. “Any word from Morse or Sitwell?”

“None yet.”

To have gone this long without hearing from them likely meant they were dead. Damn it. Morse had been a good Secret Service agent; he’d liked her. He’d liked what he’d known of Sitwell, too. After a moment, he pointed to the smooth skin on his shoulder. “You know, if you lose a limb, too, I’m pretty sure they’ll fix you up. Look at that, May. Smooth as a baby’s ass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me wake the President so you’ll talk to him instead.”

Bucky grinned. His heart wasn’t in it, but he hoped the effort counted for something. “Not much can wake him after he falls asleep,” he admitted. “He been out long?”

“Couple hours.”

Bucky nodded and sank down in his bed again. “Then he’ll be out for another couple, probably.” He glanced at Steve, the crumpled clothes and the faint wrinkles around his eyes, a touch of gray at the temples. He hadn’t noticed that Steve looked older now than he had before the election.

He lolled his head back toward May. “I was out of it last time. Who else made it out with him?”

“Barton and Wilson.”

Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek. “No one else?”

May pursed her lips.

Hanging his head, Bucky considered the implications. Of the President’s entire protective detail, only he and two others who were loyal to him had made it out. Oh, shit. _Shit._ He’d forgotten- “Rumlow,” he said quickly. “Did Rumlow make it?”

Her lips curled upwards at the corners. “She took him out. He won’t be coming after her, the President, or you.”

Bucky exhaled, relaxing against the pillows. “Any word on how much longer I have to-”

She straightened, and a second later, Sharon strode in. She was trailed by a thin redhead whose T-shirt looked like it cost more than Bucky’s old apartment. 

The redhead glanced at Bucky, then looked at Steve. “Are you sure we-”

“He needs to see this,” Sharon answered curtly. She shook Steve’s shoulder and studied Bucky as Steve blinked awake. “You feeling okay?”

“Lopsided,” he admitted. “But physically?” He studied his arm, trying to see over his shoulder before realizing there was no point. There wasn’t anything beyond his shoulder, and there wouldn’t be anything there ever again. He swallowed. “Fine,” he lied.

She didn’t look convinced, but Steve was staring between them in confusion. She grabbed the remote and turned on the television. The redhead rattled off a number, and Sharon turned the channel to the news.

Steve straightened. “That’s Rodriguez.”

“Condemning you for betraying the country,” Sharon said grimly. “And Pierce is backing him up.”

* * *

Steve stared at the television. He and the Vice President had disagreed about a lot, but Steve had always thought that was part of the job. He’d admired Rodriguez for it, thought it meant the man had character.

But now Rodriguez stood beside Pierce. “-idea that President Rogers could have done any of this. The affairs that have come to light are one thing, but the redirected funds- taking money away from the military to spend on vacations and- and companionship. _Youthful_ companionship. It- That isn’t-” 

Steve stared as Pierce stiffened on screen. 

Rodriguez glanced at the older man and squared his shoulders. “That isn’t what we’re about in this country,” he continued, his voice firm. “Steve Rogers may have paid lip service to the ideals of this country, but I and Senator Pierce _serve_ this country. We are proud and honored to serve the citizens of the United States of America. We will move forward from this, we will rise from the shame Rogers has brought on this country-”

“Laying it on a bit strong,” Sharon muttered.

Steve shook his head. “Pierce signaled him. Did you see him tense up, and then Rodriguez changed his tone?”

She looked at him, her eyes sharp. “You think he’s part of it. Rodriguez.”

He leaned back, remembering his first meetings with Rodriguez, trying to remember everyone else they had considered for Vice President. He felt a pang; Abe had put together the list. To his credit, Rodriguez hadn’t been in the top five; he’d been eighth. Steve was the one who had noted that Rodriguez had a good relationship with the opposition. He supposed he should have listened to Abe. Absently, he reached for Bucky’s hand, and as Bucky held his hand in turn, Steve gradually felt better.

“He was either in on it from the beginning or they brought him in later. Either way, trying to convince him to come clean won’t do any good. He’s made his choice.”

Sharon arched a brow at him. “You usually have more faith in people.”

Steve only offered her a dour expression. It was hard to have faith in people when so many of them were trying to destroy him.

Bucky gave his hand a squeeze, and Steve shook his head. 

“Right. It’s- We’ll come back from this. We have to. We can’t let them take over the country.” Not if they were the sorts of people to murder Abe, not if they were the sorts of people to try to kill Bucky and Sharon. He looked to Pepper. “I need to talk to Mr. Stark.”

Pepper nodded. “I’ll get him.”

* * *

They ate pizza in Bucky’s room, with Nick and Stark arguing about the best way to help Steve and with Bucky propped up on the pillows while Helen monitored him. Sharon watched Helen while the doctor worked, trying to figure out how to get Helen to come work for her. Through their brief conversations, Sharon had come to respect Helen’s intelligence and dedication. She’d noticed that even Stark seemed to respect her. Or at least, he hit on her less and shut up more so Helen could speak.

There were problems with her plan to lure Helen away. The first was how loyal Helen was to Stark and his substantial funding, and the second was Sharon had no idea if she had a Cabinet anymore. She didn’t even know if she had a job, or a home to go back to, didn’t know if she’d have to live the rest of her life in hiding or not.

Helen, satisfied with Bucky’s progress, started taking off the wires to monitor his heart. “Any discomfort or dizziness, tell me immediately,” she instructed.

Bucky tried to eat his slice of pizza with one hand. “So I can get out of bed now?”

She nodded. “I would recommend walking around after you finish your meal. You’ll have to regain your sense of balance; many people don’t realize how important a role their arms play.”

“I’ve been trying to hold up my plate for the past ten minutes so I wouldn’t drop pizza toppings on the sheets,” Bucky groused. “No offense, Doc, but I know I’m gonna have to adjust.”

Steve was busy listening to Nick and Stark’s back and forth, so Sharon leaned over and patted Bucky’s leg. “Maybe we can get you one of those prosthetics that move when you want them to,” she suggested. She turned to Helen. “Any recommendations?”

Helen considered. “I will ask around.” She glanced at Steve. “Quietly, of course.”

Sharon smiled. People tended to think of Steve only as the President, not as a man. She didn’t understand it herself; she thought of him as just Steve, her husband who had a nigh-impossible job. “I’d appreciate it.”

Helen nodded and took the heart monitor with her as she left, leaving Bucky to heave a heavy sigh.

He nodded to the space on his right, and she pulled herself up to sit beside him, letting him rest his head on her shoulder.

She patted his leg again. “You’ve got me and Steve still,” she told him. “We’ll help however we can.”

He buried his face in her neck and didn’t move. She tilted her cheek to rest against his head, feeling his hot breath against her skin. She understood; she didn’t like people seeing her when she was vulnerable, either.

While she waited for him to feel better, she turned her attention to the discussion between Nick and Stark. Nick, of course, wanted to do something subtle, a trap that Pierce and his compatriots wouldn’t see until it ensnared them. Stark wanted something big, bold, and grand.

“We need both,” Steve said firmly. “We need to expose them as liars to the public, and we need to do it in such a way that no one will trust them ever again.” His gaze settled on Nick. “And we need enough evidence to bury them.”

Nick nodded grimly. “We’re still identifying everyone who’s helping him. Confirming more people every day.”

Steve turned to look at Sharon, and she nodded. It was good that they were identifying their enemies, but it was discouraging to think they had so many. She frowned at Nick. “We’ll need more protection than we have if we do anything public. Bucky and May are still recovering.”

Bucky’s head immediately popped up from her neck. “I can still help!” he snapped.

“You know as well as I do that you’ll need time to acclimate.” She tried to keep her tone kind and gentle. She rested her hand on his thigh. “We have to act before they solidify their power base more than they already have.” It was likely already too late to stop Rodriguez from being sworn in.

“We’ll need plants in the media,” Nick said.

Stark looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have any already? I could have sworn you already had some.”

“Most conspiracies are just conspiracies, Stark.”

“Maybe tell me that when I’m not harboring a presidential fugitive because the American government is staging a coup.”

Sharon cleared her throat. “Let’s take it for granted that this conspiracy exists,” she suggested, “and work on blowing it the fuck up.”

Nick shifted his weight and crossed his arms. After several seconds, he said, “Stark. Some of the reporters will respond better to a phone call from you.”

“Interviews,” Steve said. “We can offer them interviews where we discuss what’s really happening, tell them the truth, get them on our side.”

“Evidence speaks louder than you do,” Stark told him. He caught Nick’s eye and added a belated, “Sir.”

“It might help to do the interviews anyway,” Sharon said slowly. “It will give them something to air featuring Steve and his innocence instead of Pierce and his accusations. And-” She glanced at Steve and bit her lip. “There should be a record. Just in case.”

Silence fell again. They all knew how close Pierce and his side had come to killing Steve before. None of them were stupid enough to think no one else would try to kill him again once they realized none of the bodies in the barn were his. The conspiracy had too much riding on it. Anyone who was a part of it would have to kill Steve, or everything they’d worked for would fall apart.

The only way to ensure the conspiracy’s success was Steve’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt longer when I was writing it, lol.
> 
> I've only got the last two chapters to write, so I'll be focusing on getting those wrapped up tomorrow and then editing what I've got. I know how I want it to end, but half the fun/pain is getting there! Come hell or high water, this fic will be complete by April. JUST A COUPLE MORE CHAPTERS TO GO!


	27. Chapter 27

Bucky was almost certain Stark had slept with every single reporter he called over. They came one at a time, all flirtatious smiles and coy phrases, to find everything already set up for an interview, with CIA Director Fury sitting in one of the chairs. Most of them were confused at first, but then Fury would explain that they were being offered a one-on-one interview, and that if they discussed the details of the interview with anyone before Fury or Stark gave them the all-clear, they might be targeted for death by the US government. He thought that some of the reporters would back out, but most of them seemed to think they were about to get their own Watergate scandal. They weren’t wrong, but he couldn’t help but think they were being stupid with their safety.

Bucky stayed in the kitchen area with Pepper while May and Barton took over the protective detail, despite Stark’s assurances that his home security system would take care of everything. Bucky understood May and Barton’s paranoia; he shared it. Which was one of the reasons it grated on him so badly that he couldn’t join them. May had told him that when he could pass the Rangers course with one arm, she’d take him back on. 

They both knew he couldn’t pass it with only one arm.

It made him hate himself even more. He should be able to help Steve and Sharon and the Secret Service. He knew, rationally, that he couldn’t do things as he used to; he still kept trying to use both hands to eat and read the paper. He tried to eat his sandwich with both hands only to have the tomato fall onto the counter. He’d even tried to stuff the tomato back between the slices of bread with his missing hand before catching himself. He heaved a sigh, stuffed his tomato slice back in the sandwich, and listened as Steve and Sharon entered the room and the reporters realized they were getting the biggest interview of their careers.

Of course, the interviews couldn’t just focus on Steve and Sharon, not after news that Steve cheated on Sharon with a Secret Service agent. Bucky knew they were doing their best to try to keep him out of it because he’d never signed up for life as a public figure, but that just made him feel even more self-loathing. He could handle himself. He could defend himself. He might have lost an arm, but that didn’t mean he was helpless.

Several of the questions were about him, about whether Steve had seduced him, how old Bucky had been when Steve had met him, had he ever abused or threatened Sharon to make her go along with it? Had he ever used government funds to cover his affairs?

The third reporter who asked was three too many. Bucky stood and entered the room. The reporter’s eyes widened when she saw him, and Steve and Sharon turned to see what she was looking at.

Steve sighed and looked to Sharon; it was she who nodded for him to scoot toward the end of the couch, putting her in the middle. Clever, Bucky thought as he took a seat. With Steve in the middle, people might say it looked like he and Sharon were fighting over Steve.

He sat on Sharon’s other side and reached to pat her knee in gratitude before remembering he had no left arm anymore. It was going to take more time to get accustomed to than he’d thought. “For the record,” he started, “Steve never seduced me. I seduced him.” He looked at Steve and Sharon, saw the way Steve’s eyes twinkled and Sharon’s lips twitched. “I mean, first. I’m James Barnes, the... First Lady’s floral arranger... person.”

The reporter stared at him. Sharon bit her lip, but a snort slipped out.

Bucky shrugged. “Sorry. This is my first interview that wasn’t for a job. I haven’t had media training.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Sharon murmured dryly.

He tried to nudge her with an elbow and bumped his shoulder against hers instead.

The reporter, and damn, he should have paid closer attention to her name, blinked at him. “Mr. Barnes.” She spoke slowly, buying time as she processed his arrival, and finally pointed to his arm. “You had an arm last time I saw you.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, his cheeks warming. No one had spoken to him like that before; he supposed he should consider himself lucky it had taken this long.

“He lost it saving me,” Sharon cut in, resting a hand on his knee. “Brock Rumlow, formerly of the Secret Service, tried to murder me. Bucky intervened. It’s because of him and another agent that I’m still alive.”

“But it’s already healed,” the reporter said, and Bucky bit the inside of his cheek again.

“They have good doctors here,” he said after a moment. Steve patted him on the shoulder, his arm behind Sharon, and Bucky looked at him gratefully.

The reporter cleared her throat. “So... how does this work?” She waved a hand at them. “How do _you_ work?”

Steve smiled, and beside him, Bucky felt Sharon go almost as breathless as he was. Steve’s brilliant, heartfelt smiles seemed to take both their breaths away. “Better than I ever could have hoped.” The sincerity in Steve’s voice twisted something in Bucky’s gut, and he almost regretted that he’d stepped in to do an interview. If he could sneak away to the bathroom for a couple minutes...

Sharon leaned forward. “I know it’s weird. But it’s actually kind of nice. I know I have two people to count on now. And when Steve-” She looked at him for a moment before looking away and clearing her throat. “When Steve was attacked... I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had Bucky. I’m not sure I could have made it.”

Steve cleared his throat as well. “I, um. I wasn’t sure what had happened to them, either. It was probably the most terrified I’ve ever been, thinking that I might have lost them.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose and took the risk. “I’m in it for the sex.”

Steve snorted; Sharon barked out a laugh before clamping a hand over her mouth, and Steve pulled her closer as he chuckled.

Looking between them and the reporter, Bucky said, “Was I not supposed to say that?”

“Oh, my God,” Sharon murmured.

It turned out, he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was glad that Steve and Sharon didn’t seem so dour and stiff after. They introduced the reporter to the doc so the doc could talk about Bucky’s arm, and then did some more interviews. This time, Bucky stayed with them throughout, doing his best to answer the questions in a way that wouldn’t embarrass either of them.

“You know too many reporters,” he groused at Tony after an hour and a half.

“Just a couple more,” he promised. “You’re the ones who wanted to make sure you got airtime in case things went sideways.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulder and gave a nod of encouragement. They did five more interviews, then sat through a meal with the others. Bucky was already tired of talking with people by that point, tired of being polite and watching what he said, but he was also hungry. He stuck it out, and as soon as Steve excused himself to go rest, he got up to follow him and Sharon.

He paused outside the room he’d been staying in, not looking forward to spending time in the too-small bed. The machines had been taken away, but the room still felt sterile. He dreaded the thought of waking up there again.

But then Steve took his hand and led him farther down the hall. The bedroom was larger than Bucky’s, decorated in chrome, with a TV Bucky wasn’t sure was on the market yet. The bed, though, looked big enough to be comfortable for all three of them, and Bucky heaved a long, slow sigh of relief when he saw it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed them beside him at night.

“You should get the middle tonight,” Steve offered quietly.

Bucky made a face. The middle was the comfort spot, the spot of the person who needed to be protected. Realistically, he knew that it wouldn’t be a bad idea. But the idea still grated him. He hated that so many people now thought he was weak, useless, in need of protection.

“I’ll take the middle,” Sharon said, her eyes on his face. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God knows he’ll just end up sleeping on top of both of us anyway.”

Bucky’s lips parted in a slow grin. “She’s got a point.”

* * *

Steve hadn’t studied computers and what they were capable of. He was now learning that he had overlooked an important part of his life. It was one thing to recognize that everyone needed access to the Internet. It was another to realize how much that connection to people could be used to spy on people.

“Outwardly, he’s a shining beacon,” Nick said, passing him another sheaf of papers. The table everyone had gathered around was already covered. “So loyal to his wife that it took me months to find out he had a mistress. Donates to charities. Visits sick kids in hospitals.”

Sharon snorted. “Because that’s who sick kids want to meet, the Majority Leader of the Senate.”

“I don’t even want a visit from him,” Stark agreed, “and _I’m_ a tax-paying adult.” He looked sideways at Pepper with a silent question, and she sighed.

“Yes, Tony. All your taxes are paid. And you get audited every year.”

Tony spread his hands before him. “A tax-paying adult,” he repeated. He pointed at the papers. “But isn’t it illegal for the government to spy on United States officials?”

“The Intelligence Committee has an agreement with the CIA,” Sharon cut in, her voice distant as she read one of Nick’s reports. “The CIA isn’t _supposed_ to spy on the Senate, and they’ve actually gotten into trouble before. But suspicion of conspiracy validates the CIA, particularly as Steve has survived an assassination attempt already. The CIA has to investigate that, even if it leads them to the United States Senate.”

Steve, and most of the rest of the table, looked at Sharon in surprise.

Nick drawled, “She was on the committee when she was in the Senate. She was the biggest pain in my ass on the whole committee.”

“Checks and balances, Nick,” she replied with a grin. “Without them, where would our country be?”

His shoulders lifted in what have might have been a laugh, and the two returned to studying reports without missing a beat.

“This isn’t going to sell,” Sam said, eyeing the papers. “There’s too much. We need something big to discredit him. Soundbite size.”

Nick snorted. “He’s going to be arrested. Him and over half the Senate, along with a big part of the House. I think that’s going to go a long way to send a big message. The soundbite can be treason.”

“But if you arrest him without proving to the public that he’s guilty, people will just think that you and Steve are corrupt.” Sam pressed his lips together and turned to Steve. “I’m sorry, man, but it’s true. They didn’t just try to assassinate you, they did a full-out character assassination. And a good one. _And,_ Sharon is friends with Fury. Everyone in power knows that.”

Steve looked around the table and finally reached out to take Sharon’s hand. Her eyes were flashing dangerously. Worse, her gaze was on Sam. He squeezed her hand and asked Nick, “Any way we can punch some holes in that? The sooner, the better. It will also help us after we’re back in power.” He took in the large dining room table covered with evidence of Pierce’s and other senators’ attempt to take over the government. “If we _can_ get back in power.”

Stark leaned forward. “Actually, I think I might have some thoughts on that.” At a derisive sound from Nick, Stark glared at him. “I happen to be good at grandiose displays that get complex ideas across to the simple people, Fury.”

“I noticed,” Nick said dryly. “Just make sure Potts has a hand in it. And run the plan by me first.” He didn’t wait for Stark’s assent before striding into the kitchen.

Sharon sighed. “He just likes to make an exit.”

* * *

That night, Sharon felt even more tired than she had the night before. She lay in bed, between Steve and Bucky since they had insisted, and stared at the ceiling.

“Go to sleep,” Steve muttered, slinging an arm around her in the darkness.

“How’d you even know I was up?” she demanded quietly.

“Can hear you thinking.”

Bucky grunted. Evidently, he could hear her, too.

She sighed. “This is going to be dangerous, Steve. I don’t know if you realize how dangerous.”

Steve gave up on sleep for the time being and propped himself up with an elbow. “Nick, Stark, Barton, and May are trying to keep things as safe as possible, Sharon. We’re going to be fine.”

Bucky crawled on top of them both. Still adjusting to moving with only one arm and half-asleep, his movements were ungainly until he dropped, draping himself across them. “Have to go through me,” he slurred.

She rolled her eyes and tried to push him off her diaphragm. After several seconds, he scooted farther down. “I’m not worried about us. Not really. If Pierce pulls off the coup, there’s no telling what will happen to the country. But if we stop him, that means electing new senators, electing new house members. Losing Secret Service agents. What scares me is that no matter how this goes,” she sighed once she could breathe better, “the US government as we know it won’t survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left to write, and I know where I'm going with it. By this time tomorrow, it should be complete, and then, if you come back...
> 
> I SHALL TAUNT YOU A SECOND TIME!


	28. Chapter 28

“So. We’re all clear on the plan,” Fury said, meeting each of their eyes. “Such as it is.” Steve glanced at Sharon, who was leaning forward attentively. She was in, he knew. She wanted to hurt Pierce. He wasn’t as violent or vengeful, himself; he just didn’t want to see anyone else hurt. But that meant he was in, as well. Something flashy, like Tony wanted. A trap, like Fury wanted.

But one person didn’t factor into the plan.

“No,” Bucky growled.

Steve reached over to squeeze Bucky’s hand, but Bucky didn’t so much as look at him. Of course, the plan had to rankle Bucky worse than either him or Sharon. Bucky had tried to protect them - Sharon, especially - for so long that not being with them during this part wouldn’t go over well at all, and that was unlikely to change. Steve gave his hand another pat and turned his attention back to Fury with a sigh.

“That’s the plan,” Fury repeated, his voice firm. “If you could be useful, I’d have included you, but you’re balance is off and you keep forgetting you’ve lost an arm.”

“Nick,” Sharon murmured in gentle admonishment.

Fury pointed to his eyepatch. “I know what it’s like to have to adjust. And I know it can’t be done overnight. We go tomorrow night, since I’m sure it’ll take that long to either convince May to go along with us or for me to drug her, and we can’t afford to wait any longer than that.” He got to his feet.

Bucky jumped up. “They’re not going without me!”

“Don’t make me drug you, too,” Fury warned. He turned and walked away.

Sharon leaned over to pat Bucky’s hand. “I’ll talk to him,” she said softly. She shared a look with Steve before following Fury out of the room.

Alone again, Steve pulled Bucky into a hug. “You can’t come, Buck. You know you can’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky demanded. “If you’re supposed to be bait, why can’t I be bait, too?”

Steve gently smoothed Bucky’s empty sleeve. “Nick thinks you’ll try to protect us. He’s right. It’s ingrained in you to protect people. But there’s a risk - a huge risk - that things will go out of control. We’ll need you for backup. Given your... injuries, they might already think you’re- you’re dead." He swallowed. He hated saying the words. “If they think that, you can be our ace in the hole for later.” He looked at the still-morose Bucky with a smile. “Would it help if I said I wanted you to stay, too?”

He almost laughed at how offended Bucky appeared but didn’t dare. Before Bucky could reply, Steve hurried to add, “I thought I lost you both before. It was hell, not knowing if you were alive, thinking you’d been killed because you were close to me. And now Sharon’s getting into this mess, and I... I just need to know that one of you is going to survive.”

Bucky looked away. 

“Please,” Steve murmured.

Bucky sat unmoving. At length, he said, “Fine.” Getting to his feet, he walked out of the room.

To Steve, it didn’t feel like a victory.

* * *

“If you drug Bucky,” Sharon warned, “Steve might actually get violent.”

“Yeah. That’s really going to stop me,” Nick drawled as he sat. Before him was a table covered with papers. “If there’s one person I’m afraid of, it’s your husband.” He fell silent, his fingers steepled to his chin. “I don’t like the plan.”

Sharon sat across from him and shrugged. “It’s not my favorite, either. Too many variables.” She grinned grimly. “At least Rumlow won’t be in the mix.”

“I’ll have eyes on the place. As many as I can without tipping our hand.”

“I know.”

“Soon as we get what we need, I’ll have people move in to make arrests.”

“I know.”

Nick stared at her. “You don’t know everything, kid. I might have some back-up plans in the works.”

Her lips twitched. “I know.” As Nick rolled his eyes - or eye, she still wasn’t clear on that, even after all this time - she said, “Why did you bring us to Stark, anyway? I get that they had the mansion surveilled, but Stark’s a magnet for attention.”

“Nobody saw you come here. Nobody would think to look for you here.”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of places no one would think to look for us. Why _here?_ ”

Nick kept staring at her, as if waiting for her to figure it out.

Growing frustrated, Sharon fidgeted. “What?”

“You really don’t remember?”

Sharon looked at him blankly. What the hell was she supposed to remember? “That he bankrolled the opposing party?”

Nick sighed. “Howard Stark was a top US weapons manufacturer. Peggy had him wrapped around his thumb. Tony even babysat for you.”

Sharon wrinkled her nose. “Bullshit.”

Nick grinned. “You’re probably too young to remember - you still wore diapers.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Nick’s gaze rose above her shoulder, and Sharon turned to see Stark there, holding a metal glove in one hand and a screwdriver in the other.

“Actually,” Stark said peaceably, “he’s right. You were the shittiest baby I’d ever met.” With a smirk, he turned and headed toward the bar. “And I’m thinking about getting out of the weapons game.”

Sharon frowned at him, trying very, very hard not to think about him changing her diaper as a baby. “Okay, _that’s_ bullshit.”

Tony dropped a couple ice cubes into the glass and poured in some scotch. “Nope. If this conspiracy stuff turns out to be true, that means people have been using my company - using me - to kill people. I’m not fond of the idea.”

“You really think you’re just going to stop making weapons? That’s the bulk of your company’s output! That’s how you make most of your money!”

Tony shrugged. “I’m a genius. I can do more than weapons. Hell, who do you think designed the drones and cameras we’ll be using for this stupid idea you’ve got?”

Sharon’s chin jutted out. “It’s a _hail Mary_. It might be stupid, but it would be stupider not to do anything at all!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All these years, I’m still cleaning up your shit.”

Her jaw dropped, and she looked between him and Nick. She didn’t like that Nick looked amused. “I didn’t- I don’t- I don’t even remember that!”

“I never forgot,” Tony said tragically. “The smell has haunted me all my life.”

Sharon jumped to her feet as Nick huffed out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She spluttered for several seconds, then pointed at one, then the other of them. Still at a loss for words, she turned on her heel.

She managed to gather herself together enough to throw a decorative pillow at Tony. “Don’t you _dare_ tell Steve!”

* * *

Later that night, Bucky slipped into Stark’s lab, though it looked more like a workroom with tools and pieces of equipment scattered around in a seemingly chaotic manner. ACDC played loudly, making some of the smaller pieces of metal tremble on various tabletops. Bucky drifted deeper into the room, catching movement over by the far wall. As he drifted forward, Stark didn’t move. 

Bucky moved right behind the man, and saw that he still didn’t respond. Rolling his eyes at Stark’s lack of security, he said, “Stark.”

“Jesus!" Stark jumped, one hand going to his chest while the other swung the metal leg he’d been working on.

“Jesus!” Bucky was barely fast enough to avoid the leg, and Stark glared at him as he finally recognized Bucky’s features and put the leg back on the workbench. 

“Don’t fucking _do_ that,” Stark griped. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Bucky glared at him, drawing himself up to his full height. He wasn’t as tall as Steve, but he was a little taller than Stark. “I might do worse if you don’t help me.”

Stark studied him; Bucky kept his features impassive. “That sounded suspiciously like a threat, Barnes.”

Bucky nodded. “It’s a threat, all right. I saw you walking around with that metal arm earlier. I want it.”

Stark’s eyes fell to the sleeve of Bucky’s shirt, where it had been folded and pinned to keep the empty fabric from flapping around. “I don’t think it would work for you. It still requires you to have an arm.”

“I thought you were a genius, Stark. You can make it work. Or at least, if you were _really_ a genius, you could.”

Stark’s eyebrows snapped together, but then he held up a finger and silently tutted Bucky. “I’m not that easy to manipulate.”

Okay, so that hadn’t worked. But that wasn’t the only tool Bucky had in his arsenal. Torture was out, and Bucky got the impression that Stark could only be pushed so far before he got angry, which meant threatening Potts was out. But there were other arguments he could employ.

Bucky grinned. “Stark. Do you really want me left behind while you go do... whatever it is you intend to do? I’d be here for hours, wouldn’t I? Alone with all this fragile, expensive equipment...”

“I’m not just a genius, I’m a billionaire. And I can up the security around here so you can’t sneak around anymore.”

After several seconds, Bucky stepped back, partly so he wouldn’t head-butt Stark and break Stark’s unhelpful nose. “I see I can’t convince you.”

Stark nodded, satisfied that Bucky finally seemed to be getting the point, and turned back to his workbench. “See yourself out, Barnes.”

“I’ll just head out on my own,” Bucky said decisively. He nodded as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “Make it on my own. I’m a sniper - know tons about it. I’ll just do what I can. Maybe get shot. Who knows?”

Stark’s head popped up.

“I might die,” Bucky continued, “but worth it. I told them I’d go along to protect them.”

“I see what you’re doing.”

Bucky kept walking toward the door. “See you, Stark. Sorry I’ll miss Steve’s face when he finds out you refused to help me and made this happen.”

“I still see what you’re doing,” Stark called after him. “Sharon told Fury not to drug you, but I wouldn’t be surprised it Fury did it anyway.”

Bucky shrugged. “I swore to protect them. That hasn’t changed.”

“You just have no idea what would have to go into it for you to have an arm,” Stark said, sounding somewhat distant. “It isn’t just engineering, there would be neurological aspects. I’m not even sure Helen could do anything, and with the time constraints... To do it in less than twenty-four hours...”

With a sigh, Bucky said, “Oh, well. I thought it might be too tough for you. I’ll just try something else.”

Stark held up a finger. “Okay. One. I _know_ you’re manipulating me. And I don’t like it. Two. I’ve never backed away from a challenge in my life. Three. If you’re such a great sniper, I’m going to pick your brain for some calculations. Even though I doubt you’ll tell me anything I don’t already know.” He spun in his chair and pressed a button for the intercom. “Dr. Cho. My lab, please.” Spinning back to face Bucky, he looked cheerful enough that Bucky felt alarmed. “Hope you like being a guinea pig, Barnes.” He smiled enough to show teeth. “But it’s a small price to pay to watch my genius at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three chapters left! I've got PARAGRAPHS left to write (that last chapter is getting longer, lol).
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!


	29. Chapter 29

“I really think you should go back to the tower,” Steve said again as they walked side-by-side along 15th Street NW. Each of them wore a CIA-emblazoned baseball cap tugged low to obscure their features and badges around their necks; Steve had even added a pair of glasses. The hats, the badges, even the glasses had cameras or bugs hidden inside, some of Stark’s tech that he said he wanted to try out. Steve hoped they worked as he looked again at his wife.

Sharon had her hair in a ponytail, and Steve could tell that, unlike him, she was almost excited. Of course, this was probably the life she’d have lived if she hadn’t gone into government. “I told you already, honey, I’m not staying back.” She grinned up at him. “I’m going to punch Pierce in his lying, rotten face.”

They entered through the side of the Treasury Building using ID cards Fury had stolen for them. They kept their heads bowed so the camera wouldn’t catch them.

“Besides, you know I love you.”

“But,” he intoned knowingly.

“But,” she said brightly, “I like to think I have a bit more experience in sneaking around than you do.”

“I can sneak around.”

“Sure, if you’re talking about having sex with Bucky behind my back, but remember how that turned out?”

They were in the shadows enough that Steve felt comfortable leaning forward. “Pretty well, I like to think.”

Steve heard someone clear their throats over the earpiece. “Please remember,” Sam said, “that I can hear way too much right now.”

Steve and Sharon looked at each other before rolling their eyes.

“I’ve memorized the way,” Steve argued, shifting tactics as they moved quietly down the hall. “You can hang out here. Wait for me.”

Sharon’s features suddenly darkened. “No _way_ am I going to sit around waiting to know if you’re okay again,” she snapped. “Now come on.”

Sam whistled in the earpiece. “Feeling really uncomfortable here. Starting to regret volunteering for comms.”

* * *

“Ready to test this thing out?” Stark asked, his voice distorted by his helmet.

Bucky tried to ignore Stark’s appearance (and his ego, which was infinitely more difficult) and moved the arm as best he could. It was too noisy and slow for his taste, too cumbersome. But it was an arm, and that was all he needed. He’d gotten in some catnaps while Dr. Cho and Stark had worked on it, and it now responded enough to his thoughts that he was somewhat confident it would do what he wanted. 

He got to his feet and grabbed the bag he’d packed. His heart thudded in his chest. This had to work. It had to. He’d only managed to convince Nick (after Stark ratted on him) after hours of arguing. If this didn’t work, it could all go wrong. Steve and Sharon could die, and he wouldn’t be able to help them. They couldn’t die. They couldn’t.

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

The tunnel was empty, harsh lights giving everything a stark, other-wordly glow. Designed to look like an access tunnel, her and Steve’s footsteps echoed faintly. Sharon kept her hands firmly in her pockets, aware that the security camera monitors could be watched by their enemies at this very moment. Or perhaps not, but they couldn’t risk it. They knew there were still some agents loyal to Steve - May and Barton proved that, but they couldn’t be sure yet how extensive the conspiracy spread.

Either way, if anyone noticed that the President and First Lady were trying to sneak into the Oval Office, it was going to cause trouble.

Which was, admittedly, exactly what they wanted.

“You know, if they don’t stop us before we get there,” Steve said, his voice quiet, “it’s because they’re waiting for us. I kind of thought they’d pick us up by now. Take us to an alley to beat the crap out of us and kill us or something.”

Sharon grinned at him, though the longer this went on, the less brave and the more stupid she felt. She should have insisted on some plan that didn’t put Steve in so much danger. She should have drugged him and left him with Bucky. She should have done _something._ “You’ve seen how photo-op oriented the politicians in Washington are. They probably just want to give us a show. And see what we’re trying to do in the meantime.”

Steve slowed in front of the door that would take them to his private elevator. Like so many other doorways in the hall, it was nondescript and easy to pass by unless someone knew exactly where they were going. “Your last chance to back out.”

He wanted her to go. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted her to leave him in danger so she could be safe.

She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “We’ve been through so much together, Steve. I’m not stopping now.”

He opened the door for her. “Even if it means getting killed?”

She slid inside the hall. It, too, was designed to look nondescript, in case someone made it this far who wasn’t supposed to. “I keep telling you, Rogers. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh. My. _God,_ ” Sam called over the comms. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. You two weren’t even this sappy at your _wedding._ ”

* * *

“How did you even get a license for that thing?” Bucky demanded. “DC has strict laws about air traffic.”

“Yeah, because that’s what we’re concerned about when we’re trying to bust a nation-wide, possibly world-wide conspiracy,” Stark drawled. “Air traffic control.”

Bucky grumbled. “You’re going to get shot out of the air, you know. As soon as they see you. I don’t care how many tiny robots you brought with you.”

“One, they’re drones. Two, you’re not a very positive person,” Stark complained. “At all. Now get on my shoulders, hold tight, and please, for the love of God, don’t let me catch a glimpse of anything I don’t want to see.”

* * *

The elevator opened into the ornate hall outside his office. Steve hesitated. The hall was eerily silent - it was late enough at night that it was likely even the cleaning crew had gone home. Or maybe they’d been sent home so they wouldn’t be witnesses to what was coming. Instinctively, he reached for Sharon’s hand.

As he stepped into the hallway, he looked around and grew even more unnerved. “If I were still a governor, and you were still a Senator, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Imagine who would be in power, though.”

He brushed her hand with his thumb. “If this doesn’t work... I want you to know that I’ve loved you more the longer I’ve known you.”

Her eyes fell, and after a moment, she shyly kissed his cheek. “I already married you, Rogers. You don’t have to sweet-talk me.”

Over the comm, they both heard Sam’s groan and ignored it.

He turned his face to catch her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. When he pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against hers. “Ready?”

“As I ever will be.” Her voice trembled for a moment, and her hand slid back into his. And then, for a brief moment, she leaned into him. 

He kissed the top of her head and stood there for a few more seconds, holding onto her.

She took a deep breath. “If we keep putting this off, we’re never going to do it.”

Steve nodded, braced himself, and led the way into the Oval Office.

“Mr. Rogers, we’ve been expecting you.” Pierce stood from his seat in front of the Resolute Desk and motioned to the sitting area in the center of the room.

Steve forced himself not to react to Pierce showing him where to sit in Steve’s own office. His fear was quickly giving in to his temper. He looked to his seat behind the desk and found Rodriguez sitting there. The Vice President appeared faintly abashed, but he also made no attempt to offer the seat to Steve, or to move from it at all.

Clenching his jaw, Steve led Sharon to the couch and waited for her to sit before sitting down himself. “If we’d known you were waiting, Alex, we would have come sooner.”

Pierce sat across from him and crossed his legs, one arm along the back of the couch. “Please, call me Senator Pierce. Or Alexander.” He sounded utterly civil.

So did Steve when he said, “You can call me Mr. President.”

Pierce smiled softly, politely. “Oh. Before I forget. President Rodriguez?”

Rodriguez stood and pulled something from the drawer. Steve’s grip on Sharon’s hand tightened as he saw it was a gun. Rodriguez presented it to Pierce, who held it lazily.

“Thank you. Please call in the others now that our guests have arrived.”

Rodriguez sat again at the desk and pressed the buzzer on the desk. Steve again had to keep himself from snapping that the desk belonged the President, not to them.

There was little time to think of it. The door to the reception area opened, and several Secret Service agents filed in, standing at attention around the wall. Steve glowered at Ward; he felt Sharon stiffen behind him and saw two of her Secret Service agents. He glared at Morse, and she glared back.

“You see how the odds are against you,” Pierce said lazily. “So let’s talk, Steve. Sharon. You two know as well as I do that you’re about to die. So why did you come back here?”

Steve and Sharon looked to each other.

Sharon seemed to break first. “Evidence that you’re lying.”

Pierce smiled so widely Steve thought he was going to chuckle. In the end, Pierce seemed to think it was beneath him. “It doesn’t exist. You have no idea how careful we were.” He tipped the gun to Sharon. “Especially with you. We’ve had our eye on you for years. Peggy Carter’s great-niece, close friend of Nick Fury. We thought about getting you to join us, but.” He shrugged. “Your view has always been... backwards. Yours, too.” This time, he tipped the gun to Steve, and Steve felt Sharon’s fingers squeeze his hand almost imperceptibly. “Oh, I know you think you’re helping people, but you have to realize. The victors have more when the losers die off.”

“Is that what you want?” Sharon asked, incredulous. She looked from him to Rodriguez and back again. “You want people to die?”

“Not everyone,” Pierce assured her. “Just the people who have proven they’re worthless. The poor, the handicapped, the genetically inferior. You see, in an ideal system, they only serve to weigh society down. To have order, you can’t have baggage, so to speak. To have order, to have peace, you have to make tough decisions.”

Steve could feel the vein pulsing in his jaw. “You’re talking about subverting American ideals. You’re talking about subverting _America._ The land of the fr-”

“Free, home of the brave, yes, yes. I know. And I’m sick of hearing of it. Ideals don’t work. That’s why the last president won. People don’t believe in ideals. They believe in winning, in rising to the top. They don’t care who has to die to make it happen. They’ll blind themselves to the truth, convinced they’re going to win. And when they don’t, well.” He shrugged. “It’s too late for them to do anything, isn’t it? The idiots never realize they’re the ones who are going to die.”

Sharon started forward, and Pierce’s gun was immediately trained on her.

“Easy,” he told her. “You won’t escape this time like you have in the past. Everyone here is armed, and they are loyal to _their_ ideals. To order.”

“We won’t let you kill them,” Sharon said, her voice firm. Only the sweat on her skin in Steve’s hand indicated how scared she was. “We’ll get the evidence, and we’ll take you down, Pierce.” She glanced at the Secret Service agents lining the wall. “All of you.”

Pierce smiled. “You’re probably trying to record this conversation. That’s the evidence. You’re trying to get me to confess, aren’t you?”

Neither Steve nor Sharon moved.

Pierce’s smile grew wider. “Stupid. We upgraded security. The very latest tech, not even available on the market yet. Why else do you think I feel comfortable speaking so openly? Anyone who tries to record any conversations in this office will record nothing but white noise.”

Sharon and Steve looked to each other. They couldn’t hear Sam over the comms, and they couldn’t speak to him with everyone watching them so closely.

Pierce looked to Steve. “We _do_ have recordings of you and your little cabana boy, by the way. We didn’t release them to the press. We were saving them for when you died.” He scowled. “Speaking of, where is he?”

Neither of them moved again. This time, Steve pressed the conversation forward; Pierce had held the power long enough. “Why let us win the election in the first place, Pierce? We all know that there are ways of discrediting campaigns through false information - Russia did it all over Europe in the past elections.”

“Look at you, Steve. And then we unfortunately put you against that idiot, Brandt. Hell, even I was half-tempted to vote for you.”

“Who’s the cabana boy now?” Sharon mused.

Pierce trained the gun on her. “Unwise.”

“Just saying,” she said, quieter this time. “You have a thing for my husband. You’re not the only one.”

He didn’t lower the gun. “Where is Barnes?” Pierce demanded.

* * *

“Can I just say, you’re heavy.”

“Had a big dinner,” Bucky said, adjusting his scope. He’d never made a shot like this from a flying man a tenth of a mile above the ground. He wasn’t sure the arm would respond well enough to his thoughts. “Get us lower.”

“I do that, the drones will be on us.”

“He’s aiming a gun at Sharon and getting angrier. I need a vantage point where I can take out the agents on the back wall.”

Stark sighed dramatically. “I really hate you. Just so you know.”

* * *

“You don’t need to tell me,” Pierce said at last, after the silence stressed. Sharon’s eyes were locked on the gun. She was really starting to hate having the damn things pointed at her. “Wherever he is, Barnes is dead or dying. I saw the mess at your place, Sharon. I had half a mind to hold onto his arm just so I could show it to you if I ever saw you again.” He grinned. “Maybe slap you with it. But it doesn’t matter now. And as for your evidence... your _supposed_ evidence, well. The White House is ours now. You’ll be dead, and this little ill-conceived plan of yours will be moot.” He looked to Steve. “ _That’s_ what idealism gets you.”

He scooted to the edge of the couch. “Now. I was thinking it would be rather nice for one of you to shoot the other. Who wants to do it?”

Sharon stared at him in incomprehension. Had he just said- Her grip was so tight on Steve’s hand - or his grip was so tight on hers - that she couldn’t feel her hand anymore. “Are you- Pierce, are you crazy?”

He shook his head and stood, walking around the coffee table to tower over her. “Just tying up loose ends. Remember, it can’t look like you were killed by outside forces. Erskine, of course, officially killed himself. We leaked to the news that we think he might have snapped and killed other people in the diner first. So that will explain much of that. And Steve here, well. He’s just overwhelmed by guilt. Everything we’ve done that we know will come to light soon? He’s now guilty of it.” He smiled down at her. “He’s also guilty of fucking someone behind your back. Maybe you snapped and shot him out of a sense of revenge or misplaced justice, maybe he shot you because he wanted to go live alone with his boyfriend.”

He knelt beside her, grabbing her hand to try and wrap her fingers around the gun. “Me? I’m liking that revenge story myself.”

* * *

“Drones are coming,” Stark announced. “JARVIS, send them a welcoming gift.”

Bucky didn’t know who JARVIS was, nor did he care. He was quieting his breathing, quieting it still more, and aimed.

* * *

“He brings you here for something. Maybe you drag him here to relive glory days. It doesn’t really matter - you’ll be dead, and there are always unanswered questions. We’ll just say that some women just can’t take the pressure.” He could prise her fingers from Steve’s hand. Sharon had never been so grateful for Steve’s strength. After a moment, Pierce sighed. “Let go, Steve, or I’ll have the agents shoot you in the head. I could spin that, too. Say you broke in, threatened someone. Threatened Sharon, even, and she unfortunately died in the crossfire. I can spin a lot of things.”

Sharon stared at Steve, then turned to look to Bobbi. Bobbi, who had winked at her when she’d walked in. She looked at Steve again - because if she was going to die, she wanted him to be the last thing she saw, and nodded. “I think we’ve got to acquiesce.”

Acquiesce. The code word. If Sam _could_ hear them, they were about to find out. If. _If._

“Good,” Pierce said, and only after Sharon felt the warm spray of his blood on the side of her face did she register the breaking glass, Steve’s weight on top of her as he tackled her to the floor, and Pierce’s shoe digging into her back.


	30. Chapter 30

Everything was gunfire and debris. Steve lifted his head, searching for Pierce’s gun in the hopes he could use it to defend him and Sharon, but it was over almost before it had begun, with the man about to hit Morse from behind suddenly jumping back off his feet, blood spurting from a wound in his shoulder.

Morse glanced back at the man as he hit the ground, shot him in the head, then surveyed the room before holstering her gun. She leaned down to offer Steve a hand. “Sir. Ma’am. You okay?”

Steve gathered himself together and nodded, accepting the hand up before turning to help Sharon to her feet as well. He quickly looked her over for injuries. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Would have been nice if you’d let me shoot somebody before tackling me, though. And I _really_ wanted to punch Pierce, goddamn it.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re good,” he confirmed for Morse. He wrapped his arms around Sharon and held her close. Even though she seemed okay, he didn’t feel like letting her go. “Do they have more people on the way?”

“Fury’s got backup on the way, Mr. President.” They heard a flurry of gunshots in the distance, and Morse paused to listen for a moment. “Should be here in just a couple minutes, if not sooner. If you could stand against the wall, away from the windows, I’d appreciate it.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He tugged Sharon toward the wall, glancing toward the windows as he did and nearly stumbling when he thought he saw something outside. He could have sworn that it was something like a man, but oddly-shaped and flying, and he frowned at the shattered window and the glass on the carpet.

When he looked back to the window, the figure was gone.

* * *

The next week was a flurry of activity that Sharon could hardly keep track of. She nearly kissed Daisy when Bucky brought her home from the airport, instead settling on a threat to adopt her. Trip, Hope, and Betty were all with her - and though they groused that Sharon hadn’t threatened to adopt _them,_ they all hit the ground running.

The government was in shambles. Congress no longer had a quorum, no one knew if any of the congressmen would go to trial despite Fury’s evidence. The House Investigations Committee’s entire body of representatives had been arrested for collusion and treason, along with all of the Senate Intelligence Committee’s members, which led to a gap in protocol. With so much of Congress missing, more duties than ever fell to the White House, and Steve was constantly on the phone with foreign governments, agencies, and the like, assuring them to continue as usual, and he would solidify agreements and treaties as soon as he could. He also tried to allay Congressmen’s fears about the state of the government and what might happen to them, though most of the domestic matters fell to Sharon; she would have made jokes about the domestic aspects falling to the woman in the relationship, but she didn’t have the time.

Sharon focused her efforts on convincing the remaining Congressmen on board. Most of them were under investigation as well, worried about their futures, and Sharon reminded them that incumbency rates were high for Congress - especially if they were seen as patriots - and they wouldn’t have any trouble so long as they hadn’t plotted to kill Steve and overthrow the government. Slowly, too slowly for her tastes but faster than usual for politics, Representatives and Senators were assigned to seats on different committees, enough that the committees could function.

The media was especially harsh. Kept in the dark for too long, not knowing what else to report on, they turned their attention to Steve, speculating that he might have staged a coup. There, Christine, Nick, and Steve were all invaluable. The interviews Sharon, Steve, and Bucky had done together before the assault on the White House were aired repeatedly, with the interviewers and their networks reminded that they’d gotten one-on-one interviews before anything had happened, and Christine coordinated with Sam to get media in to interview different key players, one each day in order to control the news cycle.

Steve, of course, was up first, hosting the media in a small conference room at a nearby hotel due to the White House repairs on the multitude of bullet holes. He explained the frustration of not getting any work done with Congress, the assassination attempt at the diner, the ensuing worry about Sharon and Bucky. One of his main concerns was to make it clear that under no circumstances had Abe killed himself, something Abe considered a huge sin. He didn’t care what people thought about him, so long as they knew that Abe had been a good man. It was hard to deny afterwards that Steve was anything but the good man he always had been.

She put off her own interview as long as she could, only to gradually figure out that Bucky was doing the same. Despite how he’d gotten to shoot Pierce and his cronies and she hadn’t, Sharon agreed to do her interview went when they put more pressure on Bucky to go, and it was just as horrible as she expected. The media had little idea how to handle her - was she the soft loyal wife or the fearsome First Lady? Sharon tried not to be upset, though she finally got impatient enough that she told them to treat her as they had Steve - as a person in her own right. At that point, Trip wisely stepped in to turn the subject about what Sharon planned next. Did she still want to encourage women to go into STEM? Sharon, mystified, said that of course she did. As she talked about the importance of women in science, the atmosphere in the room improved, and the rest of the interview went more smoothly.

It took weeks for one of the Congressmen to cut a deal with the FBI. After that, others followed suit. Fortunately for the executive branch, it meant those congressmen were ineligible to run again, and hastily-arranged special elections saw new people come into Congress who were more willing to work with others. Steve and Sharon returned to hosting dinners at the White House that doubled as socials, encouraging the legislators to get to know each other and find common ground.

As soon as they had a quorum again, they hit the ground running.

It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that Bucky was scarcer than usual, but neither Sharon nor Steve were inclined to talk about it, saying only that he was busy elsewhere just as they were busy in DC.

* * *

Three years and several months into his presidency, Steve finally felt like he was accomplishing something. They were improving the health care bill, more people in the US had Internet than ever before, and for the first time since Reagan, they’d raised money for welfare. There was even talk of an initiative to train people on recognizing fake news so they couldn’t be undermined by Russia so easily.

He was reviewing environmental regulations he intended to sign when his ears perked up. Sharon, the only person with him on the bed these days more often than not, was reading over a code of ethics for government-funded science organizations. She looked up when she felt him look at her. “What?”

“Nothing, I thought I-” Instead of finishing, he sought out the remote and turned the volume higher on the TV.

“-obviously going to get bogged down by what many in the country still see as a coup. The party can’t consider him a sure enough bet to back.”

“But if not him, then who?” the anchor asked. “No one else from the party has become as popular as the President before he was elected - and many people in the country still see him as the savior of the nation. They think he single-handedly saved the country from people who wanted to destroy democracy.”

“Come on. You really think people would reelect him?”

Steve looked at Sharon again, his eyebrows slowly rising.

She patted his cheek. “Don’t look so surprised, dear. They have to talk about whether or not you’ll be reelected.”

“Yeah, but remember this time three years ago? They were wondering whether I was a lame-duck president...”

She grinned at him. “I can testify that you are, in no way, a lame duck. Barton can testify to that, too, since Bucky doesn’t know how to stay quiet for long.”

He kept looking at her.

“Oh, no,” she murmured.

“I _am_ finally getting things done...” he mused.

“Oh, _no._ Steve. Were multiple assassination attempts not enough to convince you-”

“ _You’re_ finally getting things done,” he pointed out.

Sharon’s expression slowly turned thoughtful.

Steve wasn’t surprised when he got a call on his personal phone less than an hour later.

“Stark.”

“Mr. President.” Pleasantries out of the way, Stark barreled on. “You running for reelection or not?”

Steve glanced at Sharon, who still looked doubtful. 

“Because I’ll bankroll you. I owe you after bankrolling Brandt. Although in my defense, I didn’t know he was part of a national conspiracy.”

“Stark. I haven’t decided yet.”

Stark sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. You decide by tomorrow. Your husband wants to come show you something.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Stark repeated, as if Steve were an idiot for not hearing him before. “Say hi to the little shit for me.” Without further ado, he hung up.

Frowning, Steve set the phone aside. “Uh... I think he wanted me to tell you hi? But- Or- Who does he call little shit here?” Barton was too tall, right? Maybe Sam...

“I’m going to kill him,” Sharon said flatly.

He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “Bucky’s coming back tomorrow, too.”

Sharon grinned. After a moment, she set her papers aside. Steve followed suit.

“Gee golly,” Sharon drawled. “What will we do until then?”

Steve smiled. “I can think of some things. Maybe proving that Bucky isn’t the only one that gets us into trouble with the Secret Service for being loud...”

* * *

She could tell Steve was still excited the next day. He touched her more, snuck in more small hugs and kisses, got positively handsy before he was dragged away for his morning run.

Without Bucky to amuse her until it was time to go, she went over papers some more until May came by. They needed firmer repercussions for violating the ethics code than having federal funding pulled. She also had concerns about protections for the anonymous reporting procedure. Fortunately, Hope and Betty understood her concerns, and the three of them put their heads together over a pot of coffee.

The phone rang at ten, and Sharon was informed that it was the president calling. She rolled her eyes at Hope and Betty. “I guess I’ll hear what he wants,” she teased. The operator sounded doubtful as she sputtered for a moment before putting Steve through. “Hi, dear.”

“Hey! Is he there yet?”

“Who?” Sharon looked doubtfully at Trip. What did Steve want with Trip?

“Bucky, Sharon. You know. Bucky. He’s on your staff. He has sex with us?”

“Oh!” She looked around the room again. “Uh, no. He’s not here. Is he coming here first or to the West Wing first?”

“Stark didn’t say.”

“And we don’t know when?”

“He didn’t _say._ ”

Sharon sighed. “Put Sam on.”

“Why?”

“Put Sam on.”

The phone handed off, Sam greeted her with, “Hey, Shar. What’s up?”

“Tell me he was this nervous on our wedding day.”

“No way. He was way worse.” Sam chuckled. “When he went to find a ring for you, he dropped it on the ground and couldn’t find it for five minutes.”

Sharon smiled. “Thank you. Tell Steve that Bucky will get here when Bucky gets here, and that if he wants to do something to keep busy, he can think up something for us to eat at dinner.”

“Will do.”

* * *

He hadn’t been in the White House as often as he would have liked in the past several months. He’d come back for visits, but never like this.

Stark’s car rolled up and stopped underneath the portico.

Stark peered at him over his sunglasses, his phone in his other hand. “You ready to make me look good?”

Bucky looked nervously at the door as Stark’s driver circled the car to open the door. At his side, he flexed his fingers as if testing them out, even though he knew by now that they worked. “Yeah. I noticed you need all the help you can get.”

The door opened, and Bucky jumped out, miraculously before Stark could utter a retort. He headed immediately to the East Wing.

“Hey!” Stark calls after him. “Where are you going?”

Bucky waved a hand behind him.

He could almost hear the hush when people saw him, the sudden flurry of conversation that followed when they understood that he really was back.

Quickly, he was shown into Sharon’s office, and when she stood to greet him, he hugged her tightly and lifted her off her feet.

Her laugh cut off in confusion. He’d held her with both arms, damn it. “Bucky?”

He hid his arm behind his back. “Later. With Steve.”

“To hell with later,” she muttered. “Come on.” She grabbed his flesh hand and tugged him to the West Wing.

“You’re still as pushy as ever,” he griped. “So is it true that Steve’s thinking about running again?”

She shrugged. “I think he wants to. But campaigns are hard, and he’s hardly the candidate with the cleanest background anymore.”

“Having a spouse and a non-official spouse probably wouldn’t make things easier,” Bucky agreed.

She glanced back at him. “Yeah, like that would stop him.”

They smiled briefly at each other before they stopped to greet his secretaries. Lorraine in particular looked harried. “He’s been calling everywhere trying to find you, Mr. Barnes.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, no doubt to complain about Steve’s calls to her even though he knew she secretly liked them.

Before she could say anything, he grinned and kissed her cheek. “I know, I know, I owe you. Come on.” He pulled her into Steve’s office.

“Oh, hell no,” Wilson said immediately. “More of that PDA crap. I’m out. Stark, you’re with me.”

Stark took one look at them, waved, and disappeared with a shouted, “Little shit!”

Bucky, having put up with Stark for the past several months, only sighed. Beside him, Sharon did the same and muttered darkly under her breath.

Before he could find out more about why Sharon was as tired of Stark as he was, Steve’s arms were around him, nearly squeezing the life out of him. Not that he minded. He smiled and kissed Steve with fervor. 

“You’ve been gone too long,” Steve complained.

“Yeah, well.” He held up his new arm triumphantly. “There were some kinks to work out.” He beamed at them both, flexing the metal fingers. “Stark and Helen are working out a way to get more for other vets. Since I was the guinea pig, it took a while to get the prototype where it was good enough to show off.”

Not hearing the happy shouts he’d expected, he looked up worriedly.

Sharon glanced at Steve. When he didn’t move, she stepped forward and cupped Bucky’s cheek. “Bucky... you know you didn’t have to do this, right? It’s not like we were ever going to get rid of you.”

“I wanted to,” he said softly. Sure, the thought that they might not love him as much had tormented him, but at the end of the day, it was because he wanted his arm back and he had a way to get another one.

Steve swallowed. “Does that mean you’re back?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you two are good with that...”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? Steve’s been worse than a kid at Christmas since he heard you were coming back.”

Bucky beamed at her, and found himself again enveloped in one of Steve’s hugs.

“Good,” Steve said, nuzzling him. “Because I’m going to need a _lot_ of emotional support for my reelection campaign.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left. One more time to try to surprise people!
> 
> Although it's probable that not everyone will be happy...


	31. Chapter 31

Sharon wasn’t as pleased about Steve’s announcement as Steve was, and it took both Steve and Bucky several weeks to wheedle her into it. 

“You knew he was going to do it,” Bucky told her in bed one night.

Steve, affronted, squared his shoulders. “I’m not _that_ predictable.”

“Your favorite meal is hot dogs, and you always get too much relish,” Bucky countered. “Then you complain because you can’t handle it as well as you could when you were young.

Steve looked to Sharon to back him up. “I don’t get too much relish. And I’m not old. Tell him.”

“I don’t mind,” Sharon said, evidently ignoring the ribbing about his age. “Bucky always pays more attention to me when you do.”

“Because his breath smells so bad,” Bucky muttered.

Steve sank into the pillows. “I can’t believe I put up with politicians all day and then come home to this.” Despite the argument, though, he pulled Sharon closer to him and nuzzled the back of her neck. “If either of you don’t want me to run, I won’t.”

After a stretch of silence, Sharon gently patted his hand. “Steve, there’s just... no guarantee you’ll win. All that work, all that effort, everything we’ve been through... What if we haven’t caught everyone involved in the conspiracy?”

“Then it would be a good way to lure them out, wouldn’t it?”

Sharon sighed. “Jokes like that are why humor is _my_ thing.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up as he skimmed reports from the VA. It had become a favorite cause for him, and no matter what people at the VA thought of his living arrangements, they knew they could count on him to do what he could. “That’s embarrassing,” he muttered. “Your jokes are horrible.”

She dug her toes into the back of Bucky’s knee. Since he wasn’t as sensitive there as she was, he only gave her a flat look.

Steve sighed. “Still. If you say no, I won’t do it.”

She held up a finger. “And _that,_ dear, feels manipulative, putting all that pressure on me.” She paused. “Of course, I _would_ make your life hell if you ran knowing I didn’t want you to. Hmm...” She squirmed in his arms until she was facing him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to convince me some other way.”

Assembling all the arguments he thought might be relevant, Steve opened his mouth to start, only to find Sharon’s hand over his mouth.

“Not with words,” she said.

On her other side, Bucky put his folders on the table. 

Steve grinned.

* * *

“And you won’t know for how long?” Bucky watched as Sharon listened on the receiver, somewhat amused by her incredulity. “Okay. Well, let’s see what we can get done before I’m not First Lady anymore. Thanks.”

She hung up, caught Bucky watching her, and glared.

“Time tables, huh?” he said, unruffled. He flipped a page in the report and took a sip of his coffee.

She scowled at him.

On the news, there was more speculation about whether Steve would run, and more people came to Sharon and Bucky asking if he would, asking them to encourage him and to talk to him about certain bills in the meantime. Evidently, no one on Capitol Hill minded that Steve was in a relationship with two people, since it meant they had multiple people to talk to when they wanted to talk to Steve instead of just one.

Meanwhile, more of Sharon’s projects looked like they wouldn’t finish until she was out of the office, if they finished at all.

Through it all, Bucky kept working with the VA, calmly drinking his coffee, and watching her.

“She’s going to break,” he told Steve while she was getting ready one morning.

“How can you tell?”

Bucky grinned. “Trust me. I’m around her more often than you are.”

It took three nights - Bucky had bet May on two, but Sharon was nothing if not stubborn - and Sharon finally flailed her arms at their weekly private dinner. “ _Fine._ Fine. You can run again.”

Bucky chuckled and winked at Steve. What had he said?

“But,” Sharon continued. “I want more women’s issues represented.”

Steve smiled at her, that happy, dopey smile that made both Bucky and Sharon go weak in the knees. “Sure thing.”

They broke the news to Wilson over breakfast the next morning. His only response was “ _Finally._ I’ll make arrangements. Press will be here by ten. I’ve got your speech drafted. Sharon, try not to punch anybody. Or _that_ \- put your finger away now. Bucky, you need to decide if you’ll help campaign or not. If so, we’ll focus you on more VA-issues and send you out on the trail, too.”

“You already had this all planned out, didn’t you,” Sharon drawled.

“I happen to like getting a paycheck,” Wilson told her, stealing a grape from her plate. “Steve. Finish up here. Meet with the staff at 8:30. We’ll hit the ground running.”

Sharon leaned over the table and pushed more food onto Bucky’s plate. “You’re going to want to eat up,” she warned him. “If you thought it was chaos when everyone was trying to kill us, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

* * *

Somehow, he still didn’t believe her. Not when the death threats came pouring in a higher levels, accusing them all of offending God, which meant increased security for them all, or the press constantly asked what he was officially called.

Phones started ringing even more than before, and within hours, Trip had rearranged Sharon’s schedule for the next several months, coordinating with Wilson as much as possible.

“You in or not, Bucky?”

He looked at the flurry of activity around him, with Christine standing over Sharon’s desk and Betty and Hope mapping out Sharon’s campaign trail at the coffee table as Daisy called out dates and locations.

He was going to have to pull his own weight in this relationship, he thought grimly.

“In.”

It wasn’t his best decision, though it wasn’t one he regretted, either. He was assigned his own protective detail. His campaign meetings weren’t as large as Sharon’s or Steve’s, more visiting various VA hospitals and military clubs, talking about what was needed, and what he, Steve, Sharon could do for them.

“But there are three of you,” one of the VAs said in Kentucky, taking a breath as he geared up for a fight.

“It means we get more work done,” Bucky cut in, trying to keep his tone polite. “And we can cover more areas, like the VA, which I feel rather strongly about. Plus, I’m the only one of the three of us that’s worked in the military, and I obviously have access to the President. For what that’s worth.”

Some nights, nights like those where no one seemed to get it and then he went to spend the night in an empty hotel room, were the hardest.

“Don’t expect me to sleep with you,” Agent Amador said as she bade him goodnight. 

Bucky sighed and merely called Sharon and Steve. They, too, were both in different states, but despite figuring out how to do a conference call, it wasn’t the same. They’d already agreed that given surveillance measures available these days, it would be unwise to talk dirty over the phone.

The preparations for the national convention proved to be another hurdle for them - though more for Wilson than the trio. Steve insisted that both Sharon and Bucky join him on stage after, and Sharon insisted that if Bucky wasn’t on stage, she wouldn’t be, either. It took several meetings with the party chair, and several admonishments on how immoral the arrangements appeared to the public, to get the “breach of protocol” straightened out.

The three of them worked at the dining room table while they waited for results to come in. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Bucky said, one eye on the TV. The anchors were talking about the upcoming election - these days, it was all they talked about - and they were openly doubtful that Steve would be able to get the nomination. The official announcement wouldn’t come until the convention, but as delegates cast their votes, speculation for the nominee was at an all-time high.

“It’s not supposed to be,” Sharon said without looking up. “You can make all the right moves and still have everything go to shit. Welcome to politics.”

He threw a dinner roll at her.

Steve picked the roll up as it bounced off her face an onto the table, shooting Sharon a grin at her indignant gasp. “Nothing we can do about it now. If I lose, we’ll find a place to live that’s away from everybody.”

“Not too far away, though,” Sharon chimed in.

“Someplace like Camp David,” Steve said, looking at her.

“But close enough to go to work when we need to. Because we still have a lot of work to do.” Sharon’s voice was firm.

Bucky stepped in before things could escalate. “I happen to know somebody with a really great place outside of Richmond...”

Sharon gave him a one-fingered salute, and he threw another roll at her.

“Children,” Wilson admonished as he stepped into the room. “Please act like adults. I just got word that Steve’s going to be the nominee, which means you might have to conduct yourselves respectably for the next four years.”

“ _If_ we win the election,” Steve corrected as Sharon hurriedly pretending she’d been buttering the roll all along.

Bucky grinned at him. “I don’t think the other party stands a chance, honestly.”

He was right. Low voter turnout meant that it was close, but Steve still won.

* * *

There were downsides to Steve’s second term. The biggest, as far as Sharon was concerned, was that Bucky moved out of her office. He’d already taken to using space at the far end of the hall to avoid fights between her and Christine, but now, with more requests from the VA, he felt he needed more space and even a small staff to help him.

“If you take Betty,” she whispered into his neck one night, “I will blueball you every night so long as we’re here.”

“I’ll fuck you for her,” Bucky offered.

“And if you blueball him,” Steve said from beside them, “I’ll take care of it.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. Betty moved to her own office next to Bucky’s, and it took Bucky weeks to make it up to her.

“It just isn’t the same,” Sharon griped. “Now she eats pizza in your office.”

Steve patted her head. “Sometimes, life is just unfair.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Sharon warned.

“How about I hug you instead? Until you feel better?”

Sharon considered, then moved against his chest. “Fine.”

For the most part, though, things were good. They kept up the socials with Congress and encouraged cross-aisle partnerships, the poly relationship became more of a footnote, and Sharon got to see some of her goals come to fruition. Steve even crafted legislation to extend the statute of limitations for rape and got a Supreme Court justice confirmed.

As the years wore on, one thing began to worry her. As the three of them got more done - Bucky had negotiated higher pay for more doctors, nurses, and specialists at the VA, something he was rightly proud of - they also took on more. Worse, she didn’t see any end in sight. There was always more to do, always need for people to do it.

She started looking at Steve’s likely successors, their voting records and backgrounds, even asking Nick to share his files on them with her. Would they do all the things that needed to be done? Would they commit themselves as much as she, Steve, and Bucky had? It continued to bother her, enough that Bucky and Steve took to asking if she was all right, to which she quickly smiled and said she was fine and ignored how they looked at each other.

Even trying to do as much as she could, there never seemed to be enough time to get it all done.

Which meant, one drizzly October afternoon, she came back from a lunch meeting and said, “So... what if I ran for President?”

“Aw, hell,” Trip said. “Just as I was thinking of taking a vacation...”

* * *

Sharon hadn’t expected Steve or Bucky to be excited. She hadn’t exactly been excited about Steve’s run until it had gotten going. But Tony, on the other hand, was thrilled. He even came into town to hang out in her office, and he was even more thrilled that Sharon didn’t want anyone to say anything - even to Steve and Bucky - until she was more certain.

“Out with it,” Steve said after a week. “You’ve been up to something all week.” The three of them were eating a late dinner, just them, in their rooms. They often went without seeing each other from morning to night these days. Was Sharon still willing to give that up?

Yes. She’d always put duty first.

She set her burger on the plate and took a breath. “I’m thinking of running for President.”

Steve and Bucky looked at her, then each other.

“Let us know where you want us on the campaign trail,” Steve said simply.

Bucky, his mouth full, merely nodded.

* * *

Sharon and her staff agreed that it was unlikely that she could win if she ran immediately after Steve. After eight years, voters were usually hungry for a change of party. It would be wiser to let the other party win, use the intermittent four years to become a stronger voice in the party, independent of Steve.

The three of them kept a house in the Chevy Chase neighborhood just north of DC, and Steve took on more of a background role as Sharon stepped forward. Within a year, there was buzz about whether she’d run. Shortly after that, she ended up in the news for other reasons - she was pregnant. Speculation was fierce over who the father was, but after the baby was born and the blonde didn’t fade, it was rather obvious to most.

Not that it mattered to Sharon, Steve, or Bucky. The baby was simply an addition to their family. And as Sharon told the news, having three people available to parent was better than only having two.

She didn’t tell the news that May’s face when she’d been handed a baby with a dirty diaper almost made the labor pains worth it. Nor did she mention that her staff, Steve’s, and Bucky’s all pitched in with taking care of the baby, too.

Of course, with all of Tony’s funding, with the support of her staffers and campaigners, none of it guaranteed a win.

“At least you get to introduce the next candidate,” Bucky told her at the convention. “I know how much you love cameras.

Sharon flipped him off, and Bucky quickly hid the baby’s eyes.

“YOU STOP THAT!” Sam shouted from somewhere nearby. “I swear to God, Sharon, if a picture gets out of you doing that-”

Sharon stuck out her tongue at him and glanced around. These days, Tony never seemed to be too far off. She suspected that he liked having family around, even if it wasn’t his, and it didn’t hurt that Pepper had become a good friend of theirs during the campaign.

Tony’s head popped up. He looked from Sharon to Sam, nodded, and flipped off Sam before going back to reading what appeared to be an instruction manual. He had agreed to help design DNA testing equipment that could work a tenth of the speed as the fastest test on the market so that rape kits could be tempted faster. Despite how Sharon would no longer be in the White House, she was still sponsoring many of her causes, and as her relationship - not friendship, really, but something - had deepened with Tony, she’d found herself relying on him more. He wasn’t such a bad guy, really.

Even though he still called her Little Shit.

Steve rubbed her arms. “We’re still major players in the political scene. We’re just major players who can officially get away from things from time to time.”

Bucky carefully held the baby up over his head and made airplane noises. “I’ve got some ideas.”

Sharon looked at the crumpled speech in her hands. It felt damp - probably because her hands were sweaty. She still hated cameras and was about to go out alone in front of them, with her face projected on a jumbotron. “You think I left something out? I congratulated her... Even though I’m a little pissed off that I lost to her, yeah, but still. Better to have a woman on the ticket than no woman at all, I guess.”

Bucky shot Steve a bemused look.

“We’ll wait until she can focus,” Steve said in agreement.

“Focus on what?” Sharon looked between the two of them, her face going slack as she caught on. “Oh. Right. Okay.” Slowly, she grinned. “That’ll give me something to focus on other than the cameras.”

“Just trying to do our part to help,” Steve said, giving her a brief kiss.

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted quickly. “If we’re going to do PDA, get Sam over here.”

Steve laughed, then offered Sharon an arm as they started to introduce her. “You’ll do fine,” he murmured to her. “And when you’re done, we’ll be here.”

Sharon smiled at him, leaning in to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say, this fic probably got me on multiple watch lists given how much I had to look up. As soon as I googled "White House floor plans" and "tunnels underneath White House," I'm guessing some algorithms started running. So to all US security personnel that may have read this far, hello, and I hope you enjoyed the fic.
> 
> On that note, I never googled "assassinate the president," but you have NO IDEA how hard that scene was. Like, the last couple chapters of this took an embarrassing amount of time. I was looking up everything short of "assassinate the president," lol. In other news, I'm SO GLAD I didn't go with my original plan to have Natasha and a Russian-spy subplot, because that would have changed SO many things.
> 
> And unfortunately, Sharon was never going to win that election. She _almost_ did. I finished the chapter earlier this afternoon, and I _almost_ let her win. But she couldn't, really, because they can't have _everything._ So instead, she and Steve and Bucky are just making the world better and having lots of sex and those aren't mutually exclusive. And I didn't name the baby - or even say what sex he or she is - because I figure you guys can headcanon whatever you want there. Enjoy naming your group baby!
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who has read this. I almost scrapped the entire fic after the election, and I still have an alternative written that I may post soon where Steve doesn't win the election. Suffice to say, that one isn't as cheerful or as hopeful as this one, lol. But what I want to say is that to have so many people take an interest in this fic is deeply gratifying. I hope the last chapter made reading this far worth it!


End file.
